


Self-Prevention

by Useful_Oxymoron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Family Secrets, Hurt/Comfort, Mini Cooper, Scotland, Temporal Shenanigans, Time Travel, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 112,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useful_Oxymoron/pseuds/Useful_Oxymoron
Summary: When Bellatrix has an encounter with a mysterious vigilante who has been making Death Eater's lives miserable for some time, it sets in motion a series of events which will change both her life and that of Hermione Granger forever.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 459
Kudos: 1031
Collections: Time Travel Bellamione





	1. Self-defeating

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest long-form Bellamione story, entirely inspired by a single sentence prompt given to me by Appended. Aside from being the reason this entire story exists in the first place, she has kindly been doing beta-reading and making the story better as a result.
> 
> The story is completely written out, is content-complete and will have 22 chapters. Updates will be posted weekly every Saturday like clockwork unless something unusual happens.
> 
> As always, I hope you'll enjoy the story.

Bellatrix Lestrange was no stranger to missions of assassination. It had always annoyed her whenever her fellow Death Eaters called her a short-tempered destructive force of nature. Oh, it was undoubtedly a compliment, but it glossed over the fact that she could be stealthy, patient and focused just as well. The past weeks, she had been on one such mission.

Bellatrix always took to tasks given to her by the Dark Lord with her usual amount of dedication and gusto. But this mission? This was a special case.

Her mission was to assassinate Ted Tonks.

The Dark Lord wanted to send a clear and decisive message to the Order of the Phoenix: your family members will not be safe. If we cannot find you, we will find your loved ones and make them suffer in your stead. The murder was going to be public, it was going to be violent and it was going to be merciless, just as her Dark Lord had mandated.

It had taken some time, but she had managed to track him and his group of muggle-loving fellow-travelers down to a little pustule of a muggle town on the arse-end of Scotland called Pitlochry. Oh, it was a pit, alright: full of disgusting, stinking muggles and their ilk and she couldn't wait to get out of there and soak in a lovely soapy bath for an entire evening, that was for sure. She'd need it to scrub the accumulated mud and filth off her body.

For now, she had to be content with what she had: a little miner's cottage converted into a somewhat nice home. From this little cottage's upper floor, she had a very good vantage point to the house opposite of the street where Ted, two other mudbloods and two goblins were holed up in. For days she had been staring at the depressing brown stone houses with their sodding grey roofs. And it certainly didn't help that it almost always seemed to be raining.

The door behind her opened and the muggle inhabitant of this cottage, a doddering old pensioner, shuffled inside holding a tray. "Here's your tea and biscuits, dearrie," the ancient woman said, putting it down on the table besides her.

"Good," responded Bellatrix to the old woman, who had been swiftly brought under the imperius curse to wait on her every single whim ever since the dark witch had started her watch. "Now piss off back downstairs."

The old woman did so without question and Bellatrix put the fine china to her lips. The tea was adequate and the biscuit quite filling. It had been about a week and she had been carefully studying her target's patterns: she didn't usually need to take this long to finish her missions, but this one, well, she had to admit to having an ulterior motive.

She missed Andie. She missed Andie terribly. Of course, in public she'd have to denounce her, curse her name and treat her like offal, but... you just don't stop loving or missing someone you've been so close to all your life. It wasn't something you could just switch off.

Instead, she focused her hatred to where it belonged: Ted Tonks, the filthy mudblood who had poisoned her dear sister's mind. The man who stole Andie from her family. The man who had managed to break the unbreakable bond between the Black sisters. He _had_ to die. He _had_ to pay. And then, maybe, her sister could come back. When the mudblood cancer would be cut out of her life and when she'd see the error of her ways, Andie would be family again.

With Ted's death, all would be forgiven.

She checked the clock. It was almost time.

If Bellatrix was correct and the pattern held, it was around this time that Ted would leave the cottage to go to the evening store to fetch supplies. And indeed, there he was, regular as clockwork. The door to the cottage opened and he stepped out, wearing his long coat and struggling to unfold a particularly old-looking umbrella.

It was time to strike.

Bellatrix quickly exited from the back door and slid around the cottage, pressing against the wall as she peeked around the corner. Ted was looking at the sky: as usual rain poured down upon the little town of Pitlochry, as the darkest of grey clouds floated overhead. For a moment, it looked at if the big-bellied mudblood would turn around and head back inside. Fortunately for her, he did not and slowly made his way to the sidewalk.

Her turned his back to her and, with a grin, Bellatrix realized that this was the last turn his was ever going to make.

Bellatrix drew her hood over head to prevent detection and, with wand in hand, got into a better position.

She'd secretly set up anti-apparation wards all around this neighborhood to cut off any form of escape for him and his filthy friends. Though she would have liked a more personal confrontation with Ted, she didn't want to take any chances. A simple killing curse to the back would be enough. Dragging his body out and dumping it in front of one of the known Order safehouses would finish her mission to the Dark Lord's satisfaction.

She hid behind one of the muggles' metal carriages, raised her wand and aimed. With a spiteful whispered voice, she started her spell. "Avada..."

Bellatrix had yet to utter the second word of her killing curse when, suddenly, a bolt came out of nowhere and exploded at her feet, sending bits of asphalt flying through the air. The dark witch cursed and pressed her back against the muggle machine, wondering if... and how... she'd been found out. She dared to look to her side, following the direction from which the bolt had come: up, from the roof of the cottage where Ted and his friends were staying.

There, looking down upon her, stood an ominous black-robed figure. The robe covered up most of the figure's features and the long sleeves just hid everything but the tip of a wand. A hood covered the figure's head, but most striking was the mask: a long beak-shaped mask with small tinted round glass eyes and silver patterns worked into the snout.

By now, Ted had turned around and back to the door, apparently shouting to his friends to come out. Bellatrix aimed her wand at him again, desperate to finish the job, but the figure was faster and cast another bolt, this one slamming through the muggle contraption and knocking her off her feet.

The figure jumped down, landing on the path leading towards the sidewalk while Ted and his mudblood and goblin friends rushed out the door.

"Go!" sounded a muffled female voice. "Move to the rendez-vous point!"

Bellatrix stood her ground, appearing from behind the car with wand in hand. "Oh, dear," she cackled. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Looks like I have to kill the lot of you now!" Indeed, the time for stealth was over. It was time for the short-tempered destructive force of nature to be fully unleashed.

The masked figure seemed less than impressed as she matched Bellatrix's hexes and blocked every single one of them while the others ran. She'd have to deal with this interloper quickly. However, this was much easier said than done: this woman was _good_. Almost as good as her, she was willing to admit. Curse versus curse, hex versus hex, she matched her every move. Too late did she realize what this woman was trying to do.

A diversion. A delaying tactic.

The five filthy creatures were running towards the church yard!

Impossible!

The nasty thing about anti-apparation hexes is that they didn't distinguish between friend or foe. Therefore, she had left one particular spot uncovered by her blanket of wards in case she would need to make a hasty escape herself: the church yard, in this case.

But _how_?! How could this woman know about this?

She'd _have_ to head them off or Ted Tonks would be out of her reach. Bellatrix turned around her axis to rush towards the church yard, only to be stopped rather violently when a whip wrapped around her ankle. She barely had time to yelp before her legs were pulled right from under her and she landed face-first into a puddle with a resounding and embarrassing splash.

Now wet and covered with mud and grime, Bellatrix let out a growl as she jumped to her feet: obviously, she couldn't simply turn her back on this robed figure. She watched as the whip retracted into the figure's wand before the figure shot off and seemingly split into three parts.

Illusionary magics! The coward was trying to confuse her. Three images of the robed figure surrounded her and she put up her barriers quickly, not sure which one of them was the real one. On the defensive, Bellatrix reached out with her mind, trying to discern which one of these three figures was the real one. Vexingly enough, her opponent was apparently exceedingly good in occlumency and certainly good enough to keep even the tiniest hint of her real presence hidden.

The three figures, all with wands raised, advanced on her. She raised her wand and took a step back, waving her wand back and forth to see whom of these three would make the first move. What she did not expect, however, was to be tapped on the shoulder.

Instinctively, the dark witch let out a howl and twirled around with wand in hand. Bellatrix did get a really good look at the beak-shaped mask her assailant was wearing. She also got a very good look at the flat of a gloved hand right before it hit her square in the chin. Her wand clattered to the ground and she fell backwards, hitting her head against the pavement.

Black spots. Pain shooting through the back of her head as cold rain poured down upon her. She let out a laboured groan as she fought for consciousness. Bellatrix blinked and rubbed her aching skull as soon as she found herself being able to move again.

Her mysterious assailant was nowhere in sight. Nor was her target. All of them were long gone.

A sinking feeling came to the pit of her stomach.

She had failed.

Dear Merlin, she had failed her mission.

Anger and fear mixed in equal measure as she could only vent either by shrieking to the heavens.

* * *

Bellatrix' return to Malfoy manor was not a happy one. During her stake-out in Pitlochry, she had already thought of the boasts she was going to make after a successful mission, but that wouldn't help her now. She'd failed. _Failed_.

Truth be told, the entire war wasn't going nearly as well as they'd hoped.

The Order was putting up one hell of a fight and it would only be a matter of time before they'd lose control of the Ministry again. The Dark Lord needed victories to shore up morale and give the illusion that he had more control than he had. This had resulted in a wave of terror missions or mudblood executions. The assassination of Ted Tonks was one such mission. And she had failed. Worse yet, it was a failure which would bolster the Order's resolve rather than break it.

Bellatrix was well aware of what the Dark Lord thought of failure and what he did to people who failed him. It was the reason she hadn't cleaned herself off yet. Perhaps if he could see that she had put up a great fight, he would be more merciful.

Even so, she herself was hardly convinced of that as every step became heavier and the broad hallways of Malfoy manor became smaller and smaller. Her hands trembled and she felt the onset of an incoming panic attack. She steeled herself, as showing fear and weakness of that magnitude in front of the Dark Lord would only serve to make her punishment worse.

With boots that seemingly weighed a ton, she stepped into the main hall, bracing herself for what was so come. The Dark Lord sat in his usual place at the head of the table, Nagini draped over his shoulders. There was a passionless, unreadable expression on his face as he waited for her to approach. Next to him stood Cissy, just having brought him a pot of tea.

"Ah," the Dark Lord raised his head and she felt his eyes bore into her very soul. "Come forth, Bellatrix. Regale me with grand tales of your... resounding victory."

Mockery. This didn't get off to a good start.

Cissy, the proud matriarch of the Malfoy household, brought down to the role of a simple servant, stood besides the Dark Lord in silence. Still, Cissy gave her a pained look and the slightest hint of smile which gave her some courage.

"My lord," Bellatrix spoke softly, deferentially. Perhaps bowing her head low would help.

Voldemort's eyes continued their baleful stare. "Ted Tonks escaped," he spoke, emotionless and matter-of-factly. Of course, he would already know. Shame overcame Bellatrix. She had shamed herself in the eyes of her lord and felt tears welling up in her eyes. How could she ever recover from this?

"I found him once, I can find him again!" Bellatrix pressed. "This is just a minor inconvenience."

"Ted Tonks escaped," Voldemort repeated. On his shoulders, Nagini hissed dangerously.

"My lord," Bellatrix felt the desperation crawl into her voice. "I can salvage the situation. Please, if you'd just give me a chance..."

"Ted Tonks escaped."

"Please! It wasn't my fault!" Bellatrix pleaded desperately, all but falling to her knees to beg.

"Ted Tonks escaped."

Bellatrix bit her lips, fear settling over her. "My lord, there was someone else. Someone... who knew things she shouldn't be able to. I... I'm certain she's a great danger to our cause. We must..."

Now that got his attention. "Someone else?" he droned, his expression darkening. For a moment, Bellatrix felt relief as he seemingly retreated into his thoughts for a moment, folding his hands together and bringing his thumbs to his lips. Instantly, she felt the Dark Lord in her mind, digging around in her more recent memories. Already a violation of the highest order, Bellatrix winced as he wasn't exactly being gentle about it. She fought her instinct to raise her barriers to keep him out of her head, as that would surely mean her death under these circumstances.

"Ah, I see," the Dark Lord mused, obviously greatly angered. "It appears our long-snouted robed visitor has made yet another appearance to make our lives miserable!"

For a moment, Bellatrix was filled with hope. Surely the Dark Lord could see that her defeat was not her fault and how devoted she still was. That hope, however, was shattered when the Dark Lord spoke his next words: "I expected better from you, Bellatrix."

There was an odd relief knowing that punishment was unavoidable now. Bellatrix simply closed her eyes, took a deep breath and steeled herself for the inevitable.

"Crucio."

Instantly, every neuron in her body felt as if it was on fire. Her bones boiled, her brain felt as it if was going to liquefy, her eyeballs felt like they were going to burst. She fell writhing to the floor in complete agony, crying out in pain and terror.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She had no idea how long she'd been suffering until the Dark Lord finally had had enough of her, but she supposed it didn't matter. It had certainly _felt_ like an eternity. With small, laboured steps, she shuffled her body towards her room to recover. Ever so often, her muscles still spasmed and her joints still ached. Bellatrix had never been so relieved to see her bed when she finally reached her room and let herself fall on top of it, reveling in the softness of her sheets and pillow.

She quickly pulled her legs up and rolled herself into a ball, wheezing through an aching throat hoarse from all the shouting.

"Bella?" She heard the soft voice of Cissy as her sister stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "I've brought you something to help you sleep."

"Don't," she gasped through a hoarse voice. "He'll punish you too."

"I'll make sure he doesn't find out," said Cissy and presented her with a potion. The glass felt cold to her lips and she slowly drank the soothing liquid, feeling her body relax somewhat after consuming it.

But her sister's kindness was even more soothing. She flew into Cissy's arms and embraced her, letting her tears slow again. "I didn't deserve this!" Bellatrix sobbed. "Have I not waited loyally for him for fourteen years? Have I not done everything he asked of me? I didn't deserve this much pain!"

"I know, Bella," said Cissy while holding her tightly. "I know."

A more profound pain followed as the further implications of Ted Tonks' continued survival landed true. "Andie is lost to us now," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. It's not fair! I want her back!"

"I miss her too," Cissy whispered back. "What happened out there, Bella?"

Bellatrix grit her teeth, fear and sadness making way to blind unadulterated rage. "Someone interfered. Someone whose days are numbered. When I find her, Cissy, I'm going to carve my name right into her skull before I drag her in front of the Dark Lord! I swear it."

"Focus on resting now, Bella," said Cissy. "Recover."

"I will recover," said Bellatrix as she settled into bed, laying her head on the pillow. "And I will come out of this stronger than ever before. She _had_ me, Cissy. She had me at her mercy and yet she lacked the will to finish me off then and there! That's the biggest mistake she's ever made, Cissy."

"Just sleep," Cissy rubbed her shoulder. "You can barely move."

"Whoever you are," whispered Bellatrix in the night, right before slipping into a dreamless sleep. "You will regret ever crossing my path..."

* * *

Nymphadora Lupin had always been a daddy's girl. Oh, it was not that she didn't love her mother, who was currently fussing over her to calm down and rest a bit... seriously, she was pregnant, not crippled... but she'd always been close to her father.

So when a letter from her father arrived at their family home which stated that he and his friends had managed to cross the Channel and found refuge in France, overjoyed couldn't begin to describe her mood. Of course, she was saddened that he would likely miss the birth of his grandson, but simply knowing that her father was safely out of Voldemort's reach was enough reason to make it worth it.

"Goodness," said her mother as she rubbed her shoulders, causing Nymphadora to grunt in annoyance. "Are you reading the letter again?"

And she was. She must have read the letter a thousand times and could never get enough of it. Her father described how, for all intents and purposes, Bellatrix Lestrange had him and his friends dead to rights: there was no way any of them could have stood a chance against her deranged aunt. And then, out of nowhere, appeared a masked, robed figure who had not only warned them of the impending danger but had also helped them escape.

The masked figure had confronted her aunt and not only delayed her, but also managed to completely humiliate her. She just had to laugh at the mental image of Bellatrix Lestrange landing face-down into a puddle before the figure made his or her own escape. And then she laughed again when her father, eloquent as ever, had decided on a name for this kind-hearted masked figure: Batman. A muggle comic book character her dad had introduced her to and a name he used throughout the letter to refer to this mysterious saviour.

Of course, she had shared this news with her fellows in the Order of the Phoenix along with a description of the stranger. Not only had this news given morale a much-needed shot in the arm, but apparently this wasn't the first time this stranger had been spotted. Some of her fellows had heard stories of a masked, robed figure harassing snatchers, generally making their lives harder and the lives of muggle-borns on the run a lot easier. A lot of them had either managed to flee the country or even join the Order.

And that's not all. She had received a message from Alastor Moody: apparently, old Mad-Eye had seen this figure before as well. It was right after the Battle of the Seven Potters when Moody'd been knocked off his broom and made a terrible fall without his wand to save him. Right before he hit the ground, he was suddenly cushioned by magic and landed safely. Not only that, but there was a wand waiting for him there, which he promptly used to take some Death Eater scalps after they swooped down to finish the job. Though he wrote that he couldn't stay put long in the heat of battle, he swore he'd seen a figure in the distance wearing a beak-shaped mask matching the description of 'Batman'.

The old man quickly recovered and was back in the fight. And since then, quite a few Death Eaters weren't. So, that's a second one she owed this 'Batman'.

Most of all, it warmed her heart that, even in these dark times, there were courageous people who were willing to stand up to do the right thing.

Two things were now squarely on top of her 'To-Do' list. Well, three things, as she was swiftly reminded of when the baby kicked against her stomach wall. Aside from giving birth, permanently ending Bellatrix Lestrange was the first thing. And the second thing was to meet and perhaps even hug this masked, robed figure.

After all the things this masked figure had been doing, he or she might very well _be_ Batman.


	2. Self-contained

Hermione Granger was certain that today was the day her altogether short life would come to an end.

It had been a cavalcade of misfortunes today. First they'd been done in by a group of snatchers who had brought them to Malfoy manor of all places. Then the Sword of Gryffindor was discovered and Bellatrix Lestrange had gone into a frenzy.

Now the mad witch was focusing all her attention on her. She'd ordered Wormtail to bring the boys to the cellar. Next, the deranged woman was right up into her face with wide eyes and a voice filled with the darkest of fury.

"... I want to have a little conversation with this one!" the dark witch hissed at her. "Girl to girl!"

Her heart pounded in her chest like a hammer as the dark witch was now so close to her that she could smell her perfume. Her unruly mane of black tresses bouncing with every tilt of her head. Hermione would have liked to be able to say that she was brave in the face of adversity, that she would face down her tormentor in defiance.

But the way Bellatrix looked at her and spoke to her made Hermione quite happy that her bladder was reasonably empty at the moment and part of her was screaming in her mind to tell this deranged woman everything she wanted to know.

"Well now, pretty pretty," Hermione felt herself being grabbed by the neck and dragged forward, only to have her back slammed against one of the pillars. "I bet you have all sorts of delicious things to tell your aunty Bella, now haven't you?" Bellatrix giggled, her voice almost sounding like that of a little girl until it suddenly changed. "LET'S START WITH HOW YOU STOLE THIS SWORD FROM MY VAULT!"

Hermione choked back tears when Bellatrix added to her statement by scratching her face with her fingernails. Bellatrix shouted in her ear again, demanding information, shaking her. Hermione almost lost it when she found a hand clasping around her throat and squeezing with magically enhanced strength.

' _Be brave, Hermione. Be brave_ ', she told herself. But it only made her more afraid.

Then, something happened. From her vantage point, she faced the other side of the room. The Malfoys were looking on from their place near the stairs. Lucius looked on sternly as always, but his wife and Draco, to their credit, were absolutely horrified by what was happening to her. The thing is, someone else emerged behind them, from what seemed to be another hall connected to the drawing room. At first Hermione thought it might be another Death Eater: the way of dressing did seem to fit the part. A black cloak, hood, gloves, but the mask... the mask was different. It was a beak-shaped mask with a silver tip at the end and dark glass eyes, reminiscent of medieval plague doctors.

She realized that she'd seen this figure before.

Sometimes, when they were out in the woods during the horcrux hunt, she'd see this figure in the distance. At first, she thought she and the boys were being tracked and had warned them to move on swiftly. But nothing ever seemed to happen and any future sightings she wrote off as the overactive imagination of a tired mind.

But here it was.

"PAY ATTENTION WHEN I'M QUESTIONING YOU!" the dark witch shouted in her ear, causing Hermione to cringe and whimper. "If you don't even have the common decency to listen to me, I'll just throw you on the floor with the rest of the dirt, WHERE YOU FILTHY MUDBLOODS BELONG!"

What happened next was a blur. The moment Hermione was roughly tossed to the floor, the cloaked figure sprang to action. The figure blasted the Malfoys in the back, sending the three of them hurtling across the room. Bellatrix whipped around to see what the commotion was about and found herself confronted with the robed figure. The dark witch had barely enough time to block the first spell hurled in her direction.

On the floor, Hermione was in relative safety while the two witches dueled.

"YOU!" Bellatrix shouted. "I OWE YOU A GREAT DEBT OF PAIN!"

Interestingly enough, it seemed that the deranged witch had met this figure before. Hermione watched the two duel and it was a sight to behold. Bellatrix attacked and blocked as the expert duelist that she was, but the figure was easily her equal. Both their bodies flowed like water as they circled each other. Bellatrix was the aggressor in the duel, attacking again and again, only to have every attempt expertly blocked by the masked figure. Hermione could tell that Bellatrix was becoming increasingly frustrated from the way she shouted and how she was throwing her wand around ever more wildly.

By now, Lucius Malfoy was getting up, only to be thrown across the room again by the robed figure's spell, after which the figure turned around again to block a vicious attack of opportunity from Bellatrix, who now started to shriek in denial.

Hermione found herself smiling. Things were looking up.

Apparently deciding now was the right time, the robed figure found the opening she needed. Much like the spell Bellatrix had used earlier, a whip emerged from the tip of her wand and wound around Bellatrix's neck. Apparently, this was tight enough for Bellatrix to drop her wand and desperately claw at the whip around her neck to loosen its grip. The dark witch fell to her knees only to be yanked to the floor right next to Hermione.

Again, Hermione found herself face to face with Bellatrix. This time, however, the dark witch was struggling to remain conscious, jerking her body and turning her head to try to remove the hold. It looked to be so unpleasant that Hermione almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

The whip released her to wind itself around Bellatrix like a boa constrictor. Her neck now released, Bellatrix found the breath to release an endless stream of obscenities regarding the masked figure's parentage.

The robed figure knelt in front of Hermione and held out a hand. The grateful young witch took it and found herself hoisted to her feet. "Grab her wand and the sword," sounded a muffled female voice from behind the mask. Hermione did so.

"Come with me if you want to live," the masked figure's voice sounded.

By now, the Malfoys were recovering. And the manor, being Death Eater central, would soon see plenty of reinforcements.

"But... the boys," Hermione pressed.

"They'll be fine," spoke the masked figure. "But _you_ won't! Not unless you come with me."

The masked figure placed a boot on the defeated Bellatrix's back, causing the dark witch to curse some more, and held out her hand for Hermione to take. Though it pained her to leave her friends behind, she felt she had no other choice. Lucius Malfoy was reaching for his wand.

She grasped a gloved hand and found herself experiencing the usual unpleasant feeling of apparition. How this was possible from inside the manor, she did not know, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. They appeared outside of the manor, somewhere in the forest. Bellatrix was quite irate about laying face-down in the dirt and let the both of them know just what exactly she was planning to do to them in such explicit detail that it could make Ed Gein blush.

The masked robed figure aimed her wand at her and swiftly silenced her with a stunning spell.

Hermione looked at her. "Thank you," she spoke softly, a smile on her face. "But who are..."

Hermione would never finish that sentence. The wand which had stunned Bellatrix was aimed at her and a second stunner silenced her swiftly. The last thing Hermione felt before losing consciousness was falling forward into the masked figures' arms.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange was not someone to be overcome. She was not someone to be captured. She was not someone to be bested.

And yet she had been, by one of the most unexpected of sources. Someone who had managed to counter her ever curse, match her every hex and seemingly knew every move she'd make. Embarrassingly enough, she'd been stunned and found herself chained to a pipe and gagged in what seemed to be a dark basement. She yanked her chains and found them firmly attached... no matter. This would not be the first time she would escape from a set of chains and manacles. There wasn't a chain in Azkaban which could hold her. This would be no different.

"Took you long enough to wake up," sounded a muffled female voice. Immediately, Bellatrix stopped rattling her chains and whipped her head around to look for the source of that voice.

That damnable beak-masked twat, of course. She was standing next to the stairs leading up from the basement, apparently having sat there waiting for her to wake up.

Bellatrix took a moment to take in her surroundings. Stone walls all around her, not a single window. There was some plumbing, obviously, as she was chained to a part of it. A wooden ceiling above and two walls lined with empty wine racks. A wine-cellar. Huh. That meant she must be in the basement of some sort of mansion.

The masked twat moved towards her. Bellatrix got to her feet and stared her down. "You will release me immediately!" she demanded.

"No," was the simple, infuriating reply.

"You dare capture me! You dare take me from my home?!" Bellatrix spat.

The figure crossed her arms. "That wasn't your home. That was your sister's home."

Bellatrix bristled. "You've made powerful enemies today. Not only me, but also the Dark Lord. Once the Dark Lord finds out what you've done, he will..."

The masked twat made a dismissive motion with her hand. "Dark Lord this, Dark Lord that... blah, blah, blah," the masked figure almost chuckled. "Change your tune once in a while, why don't you?"

Bellatrix bristled. "Oh, you'll be laughing on the other side of your face soon enough! Once the Dark Lord learns that you have taken his most favoured servant, he will..."

The masked woman threw her head back and let out a muffled laugh. "Not exactly favoured right now, are you? I bet your punishment hurt. A lot."

The dark witch lunged towards the masked figure, only stopped short by the rattling chains. Bellatrix snarled, cursed and hissed at her captor, whom for her part seemed less than impressed.

" And whose fault is that?!" Bellatrix snarled. "You made me lose favour with the Dark Lord, but I will win it back by bringing him your head! Traitor! Mudblood-lover! If it wasn't for you, Andie would have come back! You cost me my sister! I'll kill you for that! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Ah, yes," the masked figure scoffed. "In your deranged little mind, you think killing her husband, her daughter and grandchild will somehow 'fix' Andromeda. Sweet Merlin, how far gone I was..."

Bellatrix renewed her struggle. "You know nothing about me. NOTHING!"

The last thing Bellatrix expected was to receive a fierce slap to the cheek. The masked twat was in her face, pushing her against the wall. "I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, BELLATRIX BLACK!" she shouted. "I know about all the doubts you try to hide and push away. I know that deep down, underneath your bluster and bravado you're just a scared little girl who feels like she's in over her head. I know that you wonder if everything you've done was worth it, how wasting away fourteen years of your life in Azkaban was worth it! I know that despite all your hateful words to the contrary, you miss your sister more than anything! And I know that there are nights when your doubts become so overbearing that you cry yourself to sleep, wishing how things could have been different!"

The chains stopped rattling as Bellatrix dropped to her knees and looked up at the masked stranger. Though she wanted to spit out words of denial, her lower lip quivered as any vile curses died in her throat. "Who... who are you?" she demanded in a silent whisper.

The masked figure stood there for a moment and Bellatrix almost gasped when her hands reached for her hood, slowly sliding it off her head. Then, hands moved to the beak-like mask and gently slid the mask off her head.

What she saw made her gasp. Black curly tresses poured over the woman's shoulders, showing several thin yet prominent streaks of light silver. Dark eyes, vibrant as the morning star, full red lips, smooth pale skin. She gave her a grin, showing off a set of perfect teeth.

Bellatrix was looking at... herself. Or rather, how she would like herself to look. Bellatrix was still suffering from the damage Azkaban had done to her body, but had been unable to do much about restoring her former beauty due to being on the run. This version of herself was older, but the only way she could tell were the laugh lines in her face being slightly more pronounced and the streaks of silver in her otherwise immaculately dressed curly black mane.

Her first thought was polyjuice potion, but that couldn't be because they didn't look exactly the same. An illusion? A trick? Most likely.

"Oh yes," spoke her other self. "I know _every_ little thing that's rattling around in that damaged mind of yours, Bella."

"Liar!" Bellatrix spat back. "You... you are trying to take my place at the Dark Lord's side! You... he'll know! He'll know!"

Her other self rolled her eyes in disgust. "The Dark Lord can fuck right off..."

Anger filled Bellatrix. How dare this twat wearing her face speak of the Dark Lord so?! She was about to retort, when she suddenly showed a demented grin.

"Oh, I get what's going on right now!" Bellatrix giggled girlishly. "You're the mudblood! Yes, you're planning to take my place! Clever, clever little girl. But not clever enough. The Dark Lord will see through your ruse. And he will do much worse to you than I ever could! Go ahead. Try."

The other self shook her head. "Hermione is upstairs, resting in a far nicer place than you are," said her other self.

"Oh good," Bellatrix cackled. "That means I'll get to finish what I've started. Oh, what delicious things I will do to her. Make her scream... make her beg... make her..."

The other self shot forward, only to grab her by the throat once more. Abject rage etched on her face, she shouted at the top of her lungs. "YOU WERE ABOUT TO TORTURE MY WIFE OF FIFTEEN YEARS, YOU DERANGED LUNATIC!"

Bellatrix sank to her knees, letting out a maniacal girlish giggle. "Hah! Got under your skin, didn't I?" she cackled mercilessly. So pathetic. It was obvious that this 'thing', whatever she was, could not be her.

"Enough out of you," said her other self, raising her wand and wrapping a gag over her face. "I'll let you look into my mind. You're skilled Legilimens. Go on then. Have a peek."

Bellatrix eyed her warily. If this other self was really her, then she would know she would never let others into her mind. It could be some sort of trap. Still, it would be a lie to say that she wasn't curious. And she could, perhaps prove once and for all that this woman in front of her was an imposter.

She reached out, carefully at first, but found no resistance. She entered the woman's mind and found flashes of memory. Some were familiar – family affairs in her youth, having fun with her sisters playing, going to Hogwarts. Quickly she found herself being barred from those memories as the other self proved herself an expert Occlumens and would only let her follow the path laid out for her.

Some snippets of memories followed, greatly unsettling her: the defeat of the Dark Lord... in itself impossible. Her freedom once again curbed as she was placed into some kind of mental ward. But then... healing... the part of her other self's mind she was in was bright and hopeful. Feelings of love, desire, passion, hope. A flash of bright light and Bellatrix found herself at what seemed to be a wizarding wedding.

Music played and many people celebrated. The smell of cake and sweets. People clapping along with the beat of the music as it swept up. The Black family banner was raised over the altar. In the center of it all was herself, clad in a black dress per family tradition and her blushing bride in a white one.

Brown hair flowing freely as the girl laughed and held on to her as they wildly twirled to the music. Her blushing bride was the same girl, the same filthy mudblood from the mansion: Potter's friend, only about five years older.

And yet. Andie was there, with her mudblood husband, their half-blood daughter and her twisted werewolf family. And Cissy was there too, Lucius and Draco included. So many more people. Weasleys, Potter, so many others. So many... _enemies_. And then there was Dolohov! Why was Dolohov standing next to the cake, chatting with that muggle-lover Arthur Weasley?! And Mad-Eye Moody was there as well, nodding along with the music. What on Earth was going on here?!

This... this woman was _mad_! There was no other which way around it. This could only be some twisted fantasy a deranged lunatic could come up with!

This... this could not be true.

Impossible.

She found herself dragged further along and saw more snippets of memory. Snippets of building a happy life with that mudblood girl, births of children, a grand home... Bellatrix would see or hear nothing more, using her great power of Legilimency to forcibly extract herself from her other self's mind, once again finding herself sitting on the filthy floor of this dank basement.

This simply couldn't be true. None of it was.

"Listen to me," she heard her own voice lecture to her. "Everything I've told you is true. Everything you've seen in my mind will happen. Your salvation is closer than you can ever imagine. An end to the pain in your heart, Bellatrix."

Rot.

Lies.

And when her older self removed her gag, she didn't hold back. "IMPOSTER! LIAR! I WILL _NEVER_ FORNICATE WITH A FILTHY MUDBLOOD! THE DARK LORD WILL FIND ME! THE DARK LORD WILL PUNISH YOU! THE DARK LORD WILL..."

Her response was muffled as her older self replaced her gag. "I should have known this was pointless," the older Bellatrix whispered to herself. "Why do I always have to be so stubborn?!"

A gagged Bellatrix still struggled against her chains as she replaced the mask in front of her face and raised her hood. "Fine," her other self spoke in a muffled voice. "Stay down here. And rot!"

An enraged Bellatrix was still struggling when her other self made her way up the stairs and closed the door behind her, bathing the basement in darkness.

* * *

Hermione let out a sigh as she found herself lying on something soft and comfortable. It was nice. Much better than the sleeping bag she'd had to settle for for the past few months. She stretched a little, keeping her eyes closed. Something else nice was happening too. A soft hand was gently stroking her hair. Back and forth through the length of it.

It was nice. It felt good. It felt loving.

She'd often imagined Ron stroking her hair like that.

Memories came flowing back to her. The flight from Malfoy Manor, the stunner and then... perhaps she should just open her eyes.

And that she did. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring at a high ceiling. Above her hung an unlit chandelier. Near her, she felt the warmth of a hearth: a fireplace was crackling and she lay on a soft mattress. It looked to be the drawing room of some sort of mansion, but it had been in disrepair for some time. Furniture was covered with sheets, cobwebs were everywhere and the windows seemed to have been boarded up from the outside. The room itself was quite large with several hallways leading further into the mansion.

Of immediate concern, however, was the robed figure with the beak-like mask who was running a hand through her hair. Her rescuer. Or was she? Why the need to stun her, after all?

Hermione turned towards her and the stranger withdrew her hand.

"I've missed you so much," sounded a muffled female voice.

"Do... do I know you?" Hermione asked carefully as she sat up, eyeing the stranger warily.

The stranger, for her part, stood up and paced through the room a bit. An uncomfortable silence followed. "You could say that," she eventually spoke.

"I... I suppose I should thank you for helping me," said Hermione. "I don't... I don't want to think what could have happened if you hadn't. Are you with the Order?"

Silence.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked.

More silence.

Hermione was starting to feel a bit suspicious about the whole thing. Who could this woman be? An agent of Dumbledore? An auror? Someone from the Ministry. The thought crossed her mind that she might even be a Death Eater doing some sort of internal power play. Even behind the mask, Hermione could tell that the woman was anxious.

"Where are we?" Hermione again.

Again, no answer.

The situation had reached a point where she started to feel rather anxious herself. "Why won't you tell me your name? Or where we are?" Hermione pressed.

The woman let out a sigh. "Hermione, you're going to be shocked," said the woman as she was removing her hood. "Please, try to keep an open mind..." she said, pausing a moment before removing her mask as well. Silver streaked black tresses appeared, but the moment Hermione saw her face she was undoubtedly opposite to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione let out a yelp and took a few steps back, tripping over the mattress and falling backwards. She scrambled to get away from the deranged witch until she hit her back against the side of the fireplace.

"Please! Please don't be afraid," Bellatrix spoke softly. "I won't harm you. I'd never harm you..." There was a sincerity to her voice. It wasn't so much a statement as it was a plea.

It was, however, a plea which fell on deaf ears. Hermione glanced around the room, looking for an escape and found it in the large wooden double doors opposite of the fireplace. The young witch scrambled to her feet and made a mad dash for the door. She might not have her wand, but she was still fleet of foot. Hermione slammed against the door, frantically grabbing for the handles and jiggling them. The door was locked. Of course, the door was locked.

Hermione let out a wail of frustration and fear as she futilely pushed against the door with all her strength.

"Hermione, please!" spoke Bellatrix. Another plea. More desperate this time. But not as desperate as Hermione herself as she grunted and practically threw herself into the door. It was of no use. She was about to run off into one of the side corridors to hopefully find another way out when Bellatrix's next words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Your nan would have understood."

There was no sound in the room other than the crackling of the fire, the slashing of the rain against the wooden building and the beating of her own heart. A feeling greater than her fear took of her, that of regret and sorrow. It cut her to the bone. Hermione slowly turned around and saw Bellatrix standing there, a look of concern on her face.

Suddenly, she didn't seem so frightening anymore.

Scant two days before Hermione had been forced to obliviate her parents, her grandmother Lydia Granger had passed away. She'd always been very close to her grandmother and her death had greatly saddened her. Worse thing yet, she and her parents were the only family her grandmother had left and none of them had been able to attend her funeral. In her mind, she knew that her grandmother would not have wanted her to put herself and her parents in danger, but her heart was filled with guilt regardless.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and slowly turned around. "H-how did you know that?" Hermione asked carefully.

Bellatrix gave her a smile. It was kind and genuine... and definitely odd to see on Bellatrix Lestrange's face. The dark witch remained where she stood. "You told me to say that to you in case... well, what just happened."

"Me?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "But... I think I would have remembered that."

"You will," said Bellatrix. "In the future."

She reached into her pocket and presented what looked to be a heavily modified time-turner. The dark witch held it by the chain and tossed it towards Hermione. The younger witch deftly caught it and held it in front of her. It was definitely a real time-turner underneath all the different and very much illegal modifications, but it also looked as if it had burned itself out completely. If this Bellatrix had indeed traveled back in time, it had been a one-way trip. Looking up, she studied Bellatrix for a moment. She looked different, yes, more healthy and definitely more sane. But indeed older.

"Don't tell me," said a smiling Bellatrix as she ran a hand through her hair. "The hair gave it away, didn't it? I do want to dye my hair, but my wife won't let me. She thinks the streaks of silver are, well, very attractive."

"Your wife?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix nodded and sat down in front of the fire, pulling her knees to her chest and motioning for her to join her. Hermione took a few wary steps towards her until she was satisfied the older witch wouldn't fly off the handle. "Where is Bellatrix? The other one, I mean."

"Downstairs," said Bellatrix. "I tried to get through to her, but it was pretty much a hopeless cause. I'm hoping to have more luck with you."

She couldn't deny that this was the woman who had saved her, for whatever reason. Perhaps she could find out the reason if she'd take a moment to listen. For now, this Bellatrix seemed friendly enough and there was nowhere else to run for the moment.

"Why are you here?" asked Hermione when she took a seat on the mattress near the warm fire. "Why have you traveled through time?"

"I want to show you something," said Bellatrix and fished a piece of paper from a pocket. It had suffered some crinkles and scuffing as it was apparently a much loved and cherished photograph.

Hermione had to take a few looks at the photograph before she could actually process what she was seeing. Bellatrix... the older Bellatrix was in this photograph. The photo had apparently been taken at Christmas judging from the stockings hanging over the fireplace, the tree next to the fireplace and the bells hanging from the mounted deer head above the fireplace. Next to Bellatrix in the photograph was an older version of Hermione. This older Hermione looked to be in her late thirties, smiling warmly while wearing an astonishingly ugly Christmas jumper and a pair of fuzzy antlers on her head.

In the photograph, Hermione and Bellatrix laughed at the camera and then treated each other to a kiss. It was obvious that the two of them loved each other very much. But they weren't the only ones in the picture. There was also a little girl, looking to be around six years old. The little girl was a miniature version of Bellatrix: dark eyes, strong jaw, possessing a very striking presence for one so young but with soft brown curls. Next to her was an older boy who looked more like Hermione: a narrower face with piercing brown eyes. For a moment, Hermione felt as if she was looking into another universe.

"That's my family," said Bellatrix. "Your family. _Our_ family. Taken on Christmas day, 2019."

Hermione swallowed hard. It felt as if she was looking into another person's life.

"Our son will start Hogwarts soon," said Bellatrix. "His name's Rigel. I wanted to name him Betelgeuse at first, but you put a stop to that. Something about saying that name three times or some sort of muggle thing. Our daughter is named Lydia, after your grandmother. Sweetest girl and a prodigy. Can effortlessly cast spells at six that kids twice her age struggle with."

Hermione's mind was reeling. How could any of this be true? Still, the way Bellatrix looked at the photograph, that wistful look, that longing... it was both endearing and deeply unsettling.

"But... I like Ron," Hermione spoke lamely.

"I know this is a lot to take in," said Bellatrix.

Hermione looked at the photograph again. It was a nice, loving family, sure. But how could it be hers? She did notice a little detail in the photograph, though, as she looked at the fireplace and the mounted deer head. She turned her head to the fireplace in the room and noticed that the same deer head was hanging overhead. "This is the same fireplace from the photograph," spoke Hermione.

Bellatrix nodded. "Good eye for detail. This is where we live. Or are going to live. It's a bit of a fixer-upper at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Where is this place?" Hermione asked again.

"Cairngorms Sanctuary for Magical Creatures."

"But that was shut down in the twenties and abandoned," said Hermione. "After the Ministry cut funding."

Bellatrix smiled. "Remember that the Black family has amassed quite a bit of wealth. We bought the property and rebuilt it. And we run it together, settling down after a year of traveling the world together. Our children were born in this house."

Hermione bit her lip, settling back against the side of the fireplace. "You're right, this is a lot to take in," said Hermione. "You seem... nicer. Less..."

"Insane?" chuckled Bellatrix. "It's alright to say it, pet. And believe me, it wasn't easy. It took years of therapy to break through my thick skull. But it all started with you. You made me want to heal. You made me want to be a better person."

Hermione returned the photograph but let out a brief sigh. "I'll be fair, I don't see it happening. Even if I was attracted to women, which I'm not..."

"... sure you aren't," chuckled Bellatrix.

Hermione glared at her, bristling and caused the dark witch to hold up a hand. "Oh, I know that glare," she laughed. "It's why Brexit is now a forbidden topic in our household. Believe me, those conversations led to a whole lot of broken crockery."

"Brexit?"

Bellatrix snorted. "You'll find out eventually. Don't worry about it now."

"First of all, I like Ron," Hermione said resolutely. "Second of all, _you_ might be very nice and respectful towards me, but your younger self? She just tried to torture me! You not only expect me to fall in love with a woman, which is already unlikely, but also a deranged blood supremacist who hates muggle-borns like me and almost tortured me!"

Bellatrix gave her an intense look. "Do you know how long I've been in this time-line? It's more than a year. You know why I defied every magical law by traveling this far in time? Why I've been separated from my loved ones? It's because I want my... OUR happy ending to actually happen! I want our children to be born! I want our happy life together to actually happen! I cannot fail and I _will_ not fail!"

Hermione was startled by the intensity in Bellatrix's voice. Part of the old Bellatrix... or rather, the young Bellatrix, was certainly still within her. That obsessive nature was still present; she could see it in her eyes. This Bellatrix was a woman with a mission, that much was certain.

Further conversation was cut off by an angry shout from below, coming from the basement. The rage was palpable. It was a shout promising of death and destruction.

Bellatrix didn't seem surprised. She fished a rather familiar looking pocket watch from her robe and checked the time. "Hm, she worked off the gag. Ahead of schedule, mind you. I think she'll free herself in a manner of minutes. My... memories of this time can be a bit hazy. Comes with the territory of being unstable. It's time for me to go."

Hermione blinked, fear gripping her by the throat. "No! You... you can't leave me alone with her!"

Bellatrix closed her eyes. "I have to."

"Please! She'll hurt me!" Hermione pleaded.

Bellatrix gave her a pained look. "Yes. She will."

Fear turned to anger as she grabbed the older Bellatrix by the cloak. "If you love me as much as you say you do, if any of what you've told me is true, you won't put the mother of your children through this!"

Bellatrix gently lay a hand on Hermione's cheek, something which almost made her recoil at first. But it was a gesture of love. "I have to," she whispered and gently pressed her lips against Hermione's forehead. Hermione closed her eyes and felt the affection in the dark witch's gesture, allowing her to wrap her arms around her. Though her story could not be true by any means, she didn't doubt that the feelings this older Bellatrix had for her were genuine. "Hold on to this," Bellatrix said when she handed her the Sword of Gryffindor after releasing her from her embrace. "You're going to need it."

It was then that Bellatrix... the younger Bellatrix, slammed through the door leading from the basement in all her deranged glory. Seething with rage, wide-eyed and wild-haired, she let out a shriek the moment she saw the older Bellatrix and rushed towards her. The older Bellatrix simply smiled and apparated away just before her younger self could reach her.

Hermione swallowed hard. She was now alone with Bellatrix Lestrange... the younger, decidedly not sane or nice, Bellatrix Lestrange. That younger Bellatrix Lestrange who now directed all of her undivided attention at her.

"YOU!" she shrieked. "FILTHY MUDBLOOD SLAG!"

Hermione yelped when she was swiftly thrown to the floor, once again finding herself at the mercy of the dark witch.

And she was supposed to fall in _love_ with this woman?!


	3. Self-denial

For a second time within twenty-four hours, Hermione found herself being pushed to the ground by Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione choked back tears when she lay face down in front of the fireplace, a hand grasping a clump of her hair while pushing her cheek into the cold stone.

"Well, well, well, little mudblood," Bellatrix whispered in her ear before upping the decibels considerably. "WHERE IS SHE?! WHERE DID THE IMPOSTER GO?!"

"I don't know!" Hermione stammered desperately. "I don't..."

"LIAR!" Bellatrix shrieked. "Oh, you were all chummy chummy with her, weren't you? Don't think I didn't see her kissing on on the head... right... there..."

The dark witch tapped the place on her forehead where the older Bellatrix had so gently kissed her. "So don't lie to me, little muddy. DON'T LIE TO ME, MUDSLUT!"

"I told you I don't know!" Hermione cried out. "I haven't met her before today!"

"Where... is... MY WAND?!" Bellatrix shouted.

"She took it!"

"She took my wand?" Bellatrix blinked. "But not the sword?"

For a moment Bellatrix sounded genuinely confused and Hermione could guess why: the sword was of considerably more value than her wand. "WHY?! WHY DID SHE TAKE IT?!" Bellatrix suddenly cackled. "I don't need a wand to hurt you, little muddy. Why don't I let you take a much closer look at that nice, warm fire, hm?"

Hermione let out a cry and struggled when Bellatrix started dragging her to the fireplace by her hair. For a moment, she could feel the searing heat coming from the fire as her cheek was now uncomfortably close to the burning embers. She twisted and turned her body, trying to break free from this awful witch who held her.

Bellatrix was the stuff of nightmares. She was the wicked witch of the West, the child-eating Hansel and Gretel witch and Baba Yaga rolled into one, despicable sadistic woman. And she was expected to fall in love with this monster?!

"Are you nice and warm, muddy?" Bellatrix giggled girlishly. "Are you going to stop lying to your lovely aunty Bella, hm?"

"I wasn't lying, I..."

"A LITTLE CLOSER TO THE FIRE, THEN!"

"NO!" Hermione shrieked. "Stop it! Please, stop it!"

"THEN TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!" Bellatrix shrieked in her ear and, for a moment, Hermione wondered if her eardrums would pop. "WHO WAS THAT WOMAN? WHAT DOES SHE WANT? WHERE DID SHE TAKE US? WHERE DID SHE GO?"

At least, there was one question in there she could answer.

"Cairngorms Sanctuary for Magical Creatures."

"WHAT?!"

"That's where we are!" Hermione yelled out.

Instantly, Hermione was released from Bellatrix's grasp and the young witch quickly took the opportunity to crawl away from the fire. Keeping a wary eye on Bellatrix, Hermione found that to her surprise, the dark witch seemed rather calm and collected, pacing back and forth slightly as she was seemingly lost in thought. Seeing how quickly she could fly into a rage, however, Hermione decided not to push her luck.

"And your wand?" Bellatrix asked. "Where is it?"

"On the table at Malfoy Manor," said Hermione. "Right where you left it."

"Of course," Bellatrix muttered a curse under her breath. "That put us in quite a predicament. Curious. Why would she leave us here?"

As long as Bellatrix was talking to herself and not focusing her attention on her, that was perfectly fine with Hermione. However, this solace was short lived.

"I asked you a question," said Bellatrix. It sounded soft. Menacing. Her normal tone of voice managed to sound even more ominous than her shouts.

"She... she expects us to fall in love," Hermione muttered, the whole thing sounding completely ridiculous.

The dark witch gave her a look. Her face cracked into a smile. Then a laugh. Then she threw her head back as her body shook with laughter.

"I know," Hermione replied. "Preposterous, right?"

"I was in her mind," Bellatrix chuckled. "I saw our wedding. You and I danced. Hm, could have easily been a false memory. What about you, muddy? What lies did she share with you?"

"A photograph," said Hermione. "Taken at Christmas 2019, she said. We were a couple. And we had two children."

"Pft," Bellatrix scoffed. "Now I _know_ she's a liar and an imposter. I never want to have children again. Ever!"

' _Again?'_ Hermione thought, but knew better than to ask.

"No, muddy," Bellatrix chuckled. "We are both being played for fools. You believe any of the rot she shared with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "She seemed sincere enough. I just... don't know what to think about any of this. She gave me this," she said and fished the time-turner out of her pocket. After holding it for a moment, she threw it at Bellatrix, not wanting to approach the dark witch.

"Hm," said Bellatrix as she studied it. "Time-turner. Burned out. Interesting modifications... if it's a forgery, it's a good one. It might as well just be one stolen from the Ministry and sabotaged to make this whole ruse look real. The past can't be changed, muddy. It's all set in stone."

"Could she be... meant to go back in time to begin with?" said Hermione. "Predestination paradox."

Bellatrix gave her an incredulous look. "Rot," she spat. "LIES! HOGWASH! That _thing_ was not me! She didn't act like I would in a million years! She openly mocked the Dark Lord!"

"Heavens above," Hermione replied, doing her best to keep any hints of sarcasm hidden in her voice.

"Yes, exactly!" Bellatrix hissed. "Most likely it is someone from the Order trying to take my place at the Dark Lord's side. A spy. An assassin!"

"But if it's someone from the Order, why did she leave me alone with you?"

"To make it look real!"

"Why?!" Hermione pressed. "For whom? For you? You're not the one the spy is planning to fool, if she even is a spy. Why didn't she kill you?"

Bellatrix put her fingers to her lips, aiming her dark eyes at her. From her expression, Hermione could tell that Bellatrix was conceding to her point. Not that she would ever tell her that out loud, of course. "Well," Bellatrix pressed. "What do _you_ think it is, then?"

A very good question. "There's plenty of magical creatures or near-humans who can mimic human appearance exactly. I'm not ruling out she that was any of those. A boggart, for example, can take the shape of one's greatest fear."

"And you think seeing my future self married to a mudblood, turning her back on the Dark Lord and mothering two filthy mudcrawlers is my greatest fear?" Bellatrix said, recounting her own words in her mind. "Hm, it does sound rather loathsome, true. But you saw the same thing I did."

"Vampires can create illusions in a person's mind," tried Hermione.

Bellatrix instinctively felt her own neck and found no wounds. "Not a chance," said Bellatrix. "Vampires I know can't resist taking a bite out of a helpless victim... such as a woman chained to a pipe."

"A Wendigo? Or skinwalker? Don't skinwalkers usually only pretend to be those they killed?" Hermione thought to herself. "Truth be told, I just don't know."

Bellatrix let out a disgusted snort. "Well, one thing's for certain, my little mudpet. I'm not going to fuck you. The very thought alone is enough to send shivers down my spine."

Hermione actually felt relieved to hear that. "Trust me, the feeling's completely mutual."

That statement caused an odd reaction in the dark witch. Narrowed dark eyes pierced her soul, looking at her as if she was a piece of meat at a butcher's auction. Bellatrix regarded her curiously for a moment before grinning. "Hah, you wish you'd be able to spend the night with me. It'd be unforgettable. A journey of a thousand pleasures you will never experience!" she drawled, clicking with her tongue as her voice sounded throaty and seductive.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered, only to have the dark witch's eyes blaze with fury. "Look!" Hermione added quickly. "I like Ron!"

"Uh-huh," Bellatrix grinned slightly. "Very convincing."

"I _am_ convincing!" Hermione pressed. "I _do_ like Ron! A LOT!"

"Methinks thou dost protest too much," said the dark witch, right before turning around and heading to the double doors opposite to the fireplace.

"It's locked," Hermione replied. "The key might be around here somewhere and..."

A whisper of a word and an arcane gesture from Bellatrix and the lock in the door started to glow briefly. A loud snick sounded and Bellatrix moved to open the door. "I wouldn't be much of a witch if I couldn't open a door," Bellatrix gave Hermione a wink. "That you couldn't doesn't speak wonders for your qualities."

Hermione bristled. She didn't even have the opportunity to try to open the lock because Bellatrix had spent most of the time trying to shove her face into the burning fireplace, but she expected that the dark witch wouldn't find that excuse convincing enough.

"Coming?" Bellatrix asked.

Hermione gave her a look.

"Let me rephrase that," Bellatrix hissed. "Either you're coming with me right now or I'll drag you along by your hair!"

Given very little choice, Hermione did so. The two witches stepped through the double doors, leading out into a large front yard. First, Hermione took a look over her shoulder at the mansion she had just stepped out of. Though it was in a state of acute disrepair, the mansion looked like a very nice two story baroque style country house made from red bricks, with tall windows and rounded walls. It reminded her of Chettle House in Dorset and Hermione supposed there'd be far worse places to live, if what the older Bellatrix had told her was indeed true. The country house itself was surrounded by a few smaller buildings, looking to be a collection of offices, storage facilities and holding pens needed to run the sanctuary. All looked abandoned and in disrepair, with a few cages rusting away near the main pen. The yard seemed to be overgrown, but the most worrying thing was that there was no driveway.

In fact, the sight of the Scottish highlands surrounded them on all sides. It was the crack of dawn and the rising of the sun bathed the rolling hills in a slight orange glow. She could see forests, streams, dales... but no roads, villages or any sign of civilization. Add in that they were in the middle of the Cairngorms, the terrain was a lot more mountainous than the rest of the Scottish Highlands. Traversing it would be a challenge for experienced, practiced walkers.

"This could be a problem," Bellatrix said as she regarded her surroundings. "Well, come along, muddy..."

"Wait, what?" Hermione blinked. "You want to go out there?"

"Yes," Bellatrix replied impatiently. "Now stop talking and come along!"

"Do you even know where to go?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "That direction over there seems as good as any."

Hermione cocked her head sideways. "Sure... you go right ahead. I'll be happy to wait here."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Ooooh, nice try, muddy. Nice try!" Instantly, the dark witch was upon her, snarling in her face and once again grabbing a handful of hair as Bellatrix turned towards the random direction she had chosen.

"Ow, hey! Stop!" Hermione yelled as she was being dragged along.

"This would be easier," Bellatrix hissed. "IF YOU'D STOP STRUGGLING!"

"STOP! JUST STOP!" Hermione shouted back, causing the dark witch to bristle. "Wait! WAIT! We can't just head in a random direction and hope to get somewhere! We need a plan! We need supplies! We need to know where we are and where we need to go! STOP!"

Bellatrix released her, pushing against her forehead for good measure. "Fine!" Bellatrix sighed. "What do you suggest?"

"Let's just have a look around," said Hermione. "This place was abandoned, but there might be some things left we can use. Check out that office at least."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, muddy!" Bellatrix glowered. "Don't even think about trying to escape. Remember, I have _this._ "

Hermione felt the cold steel of the flat of the Sword of Gryffindor against her chin. Hermione tried to remain calm, but she couldn't deny that the sword was _very_ sharp and she was not in any particular mood to be run through by a whimsical witch. The dark witch lifted Hermione's chin with the flat of the blade, giving her a wicked grin. "Yes," Bellatrix chuckled. "Very docile now, aren't you?"

Fall in love. With this woman? Preposterous.

* * *

Bellatrix never let her out of her sight as the two of them searched the property for useful items. There were some signs of semi-recent habitation: the older Bellatrix might have been using this mansion as a living space for a short time long ago, but had either led a minimalist lifestyle or had simply removed anything useful from the property before she left them here. The rest of the mansion was decidedly barren, save from some moldy old furniture and some old blankets. Now, the old blankets might have some use as they'd been stored moth-free and could be stitched together as rudimentary sleeping bags.

Despite the dark witch's scoffing protestations about having to sleep outdoors, Hermione had brought them along when they left the mansion and headed into the offices. There, their luck was much greater.

Though the office had been ransacked, there were still plenty of things left behind. Yellowed old paperwork lay strewn about on desks while overturned cabinets with the doors torn from their hinges lay haphazardly tossed about.

"Hm," Bellatrix put her hands on her hips. "Not entirely unexpected."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix shot her a dirty look. "I forget that this isn't _your_ history. I don't expect you to know."

"It's my history too!" Hermione protested. "I'm as magical as you are!"

Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to antagonize a witch who had a very sharp sword in her hand and had been trying to shove her head into a burning fireplace scant half an hour ago, but sometimes one had to stand on one's principles.

As it stood, the dark witch only shot her a dirty look before rolling her eyes. "Sure you are, muddy. Sure, you are."

Condescension aside, Hermione bristled and was compelled to answer. "I know it was the largest sanctuary for magical creatures in Scotland, privately owned and had a lot of Ministry contracts before it was shut down and abandoned in the twenties."

"Do you know _why_ it was shut down?" Bellatrix retorted.

Hermione had to admit to drawing a blank there. She merely glanced at Bellatrix and then, rather embarrassed, looked away.

"Of course you don't, muddy," chuckled Bellatrix. "This sanctuary was the site of the biggest money laundering fraud in the wizarding UK's history. Half the European Underworld used this place to legitimize their ill-gotten gains. Make an investment with illegal donations, get paid out in legal dividends. I don't know what's more embarrassing, the fact that the Ministry didn't notice for thirty years that a non-profit organization was making astronomical profits or all the rampant animal abuse that went on here."

Hermione took particular note of the sheer amount of distaste with which Bellatrix had spat out the term 'animal abuse'. She supposed that even evil dark witches had some form of standard, even if said dark witch had almost shoved her head into a fire.

"Once discovered, the owners fled the country and were never heard from again, adding more fuel to the embarrassment," said Bellatrix. "The Ministry wanted this place buried quickly. Some animals were either transferred to other sanctuaries, but mostly they were put down or simply left to their own devices."

"Put down?" Hermione blinked.

"The Ministry's a pile of piss," replied Bellatrix. "What more do you want me to say about it?"

Their second find was a large map left hanging on a pinboard near one of the workstations. It showed the entirety of the Cairngorms sanctuary within the larger area of the muggle Cairngorms National Park. "Look," said Hermione as she pointed to the very center of the map. Here's the offices. This is where we are. The very center of the sanctuary."

"I suppose that makes sense," said Bellatrix. "You can get to any part of the sanctuary quickly."

"It does mean about a forty mile hike in every direction from here," said Hermione. "The land folds into itself, so even if we do leave the sanctuary, we'll still be right in the middle of the highlands."

"I know how sanctuaries work, thank you very much!" Bellatrix hissed. "Insufferable know-it-all."

"If you know how sanctuaries work, then you know it's next to impossible to get out without a wand," Hermione added. "We'll be stopped by the sanctuary's barriers."

"Right," Bellatrix sighed. "Because nothing escapes as easily as a magical creature unless the place is as tight as a miser's purse."

"Even with our wands it would have been difficult."

"For _you_ perhaps."

Hermione ignored the barb and returned her focus to the map on the pinboard.

"I'd say our best chance to is to head towards the old visitor's center here," said Hermione, pointing on the map. "We'd still have to make quite a hike, but from there we'd make it to the nearest settlement, uhm, there. Cock Bridge."

Hermione heard a snort next to her. " _Cock_ bridge," Bellatrix shook her head. "Oh, those silly muggles."

"Oh, grow up," Hermione muttered.

"I'm not the one who named it that," Bellatrix scoffed. "Some dirty-minded muggle did. I just pointed it out."

"Regardless," said Hermione. "Considering the terrain and the distance, it'll take us days of travel to get there, perhaps even a week. Or more! Aren't you happy now that I convinced you not to walk off in a random direction?"

Oh, it was a gloat, pure and simple. Truth be told, Hermione should have known better and was starkly reminded of the balance of power after she'd been treated to a swift and violent back-hand to the side of her face with enough force to knock her off her feet. While she was recovering from the reeling blow, a booted foot pressed into her back, forcing her down.

"That's where you belong, muddy," Bellatrix hissed above her. "On the floor! Underneath the boot-heel of your better!"

"Ah, fine!" Hermione replied, cursing her own nature for a moment. "You've made your point, alright?! You've made your point!"

Bellatrix released her, glaring at her all the time even as Hermione kept her distance a little. "Fact remains, we have no food, no drinking water and no supplies."

"Well, go look for something useful, then!" Bellatrix ordered while starting a search of her own among the desks and cabinets near the pin board.

"Ever went camping before?" Hermione asked as she came across a cabinet which was still locked.

"No," Bellatrix replied while rummaging through some drawers. "Too common, really. Our family only stayed in the best of lodges for our holidays."

"That won't help us now, now would it?" Hermione muttered under her breath, before speaking up louder. "I went camping and hiking with my nan all the time. And I recently got some experience living in the wild."

"Good for you, muddy," she heard and even though Hermione couldn't see the witch, she could practically hear her roll her eyes.

Seriously, Bellatrix didn't realize just how serious the predicament they were in was: they were in the middle of nowhere, forty miles of rough terrain from the nearest town without any food or water. She'd come to realize soon enough, however, and she feared just what the dark witch would do when it came to a life or death situation. Momentarily, Hermione froze... if push came to shove, she wondered if the dark witch would actually go as far as to kill and eat _her_. She certainly wouldn't put it past Bellatrix Lestrange, though she hoped her distaste for muggle-borns would extend to actual literal 'taste'.

By now she had followed Bellatrix's example and managed to magically unlock the cabinet. What she found was a treasure trove in the form of a set of ranger gear. Oh, it being from the twenties meant it was terribly outdated, but old didn't mean obsolete. First of all, she found a compass which was still working perfectly. That was their first victory.

The second victory was a tent. It was a non magic canvas tent, old and ratty, but it would do the trick and fit two. The set appeared to be complete with all tent-pegs and a wooden mallet. A quick test proved that the head was still firmly attached.

More useful stuff found included a lantern, a tinderbox and some candles. There was a small hatchet which she tested to see if the handle was still attached proper and found it to be perfect for chopping firewood. A set of three canteens, empty of course. And... score! An old rucksack, one of those really uncomfortable looking ones from the olden days with a large wooden frame mounted to the back and leather straps: however, it was magically enchanted to be able to carry quite a load without any of the weight. Perfect.

The biggest prize, however, came in the form of a book. With utter reverence, she picked up a leather bound copy of Henry David Thoreau's ' _Walden'_ from the cabinet and gently blew off the dust and cobwebs. To her stark delight, she found it to be a first edition. It was a surprise to find it here, a muggle book in a wizarding cabinet. Apparently, someone on staff was quite a bit better than the criminals running this sanctuary and might have cared quite a bit about the sanctuary. ' _Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations'_. Wise words indeed.

Survival was, for the most part, boredom, Hermione had learned. Having a book around would help soothe her spirit.

She was about to announce her prizes to Bellatrix when the dark witch headed her off. "Don't think I didn't see you playing with that hatchet, mudblood," she spoke with a menacing tone. "Hand it over. NOW!"

Hermione sighed and did so.

"The mallet too," said Bellatrix. "Can't have you trying to kill me in my sleep, now can we?"

"Fine," Hermione sighed and complied. "You can put up the tent and chop the firewood then."

"Oh, don't be a silly little goose," Bellatrix offered her a mocking pout. "I'll return those when you need them... and when I have a sword pointed at your fragile little backsie!"

Hermione didn't like the girlish giggle the dark witch let out, but decided to let it go for now and shared what she had found with Bellatrix. "What have you found?"

"The map from the pin board," she said, handing it to Hermione after having folded it up. "Also, these pots and pans."

Several cast iron pots and pans were apparently located in the drawers and quickly found their way into the rucksack. "Good for cooking, I suppose, but seeing how it's always raining in Scotland, we might use them to catch some rain water."

Hermione nodded in approval. "Good thinking."

Bellatrix raised her chin imperiously. "Of course."

The next hour was spent chopping some old furniture into firewood to put into the rucksack. It was enough to last them for two or three campfires. Some old leather bags were torn into strips which were then used to stitch the blankets they found together to make two rudimentary sleeping bags. A couple of old towels and a tarp were put into the rucksack as well, should they need to dry themselves from being out in the rain or need a place to sit by the fire.

And when it was finally time to set off after Hermione checked her compass and the map for landmarks and plotted out a path. The one thought on her mind was that, if she was indeed going to live here, she'd move the mansion right next to the gate of the sanctuary.


	4. Self-centered

After setting out on their journey through the wilds of Cairngorms, it didn't take long for Hermione to realize that Bellatrix wasn't exactly dressed for the weather or the terrain. This time of year and this far North, the weather could get very cold indeed.

Hermione herself, having been picked up by the snatchers during a forest trip, was still wearing her trousers, wool jumper and coat, all of which were reasonably warm. Bellatrix, however, was far less lucky: though her leather bodice would certainly keep her core reasonably warm, there was still plenty of exposed skin on her arms and neck. It didn't help that her dress was so thin it was barely one step up from gossamer and her legs underneath were exposed. Behind her, Hermione had heard more than one laboured, cold breath.

Then there was the matter of footwear. There were no paths anywhere to be found and the terrain was uneven, unpredictable and unforgiving, going from rock to moss to soil to mud. Her own footwear wasn't exactly up to snuff either, but a pair of ankle boots were certainly a far better choice than the heeled boots Bellatrix wore.

Lastly, Hermione was in considerably better shape than Bellatrix was. That wasn't to say that the beautiful dark witch was _out_ of shape: she could dance in and out of magical combat and best almost anyone, that much was certain. But magical combat and hiking forty miles through the wilderness were two very different things.

All in all, they weren't making nearly as much progress as Hermione had hoped, with Bellatrix constantly trailing behind.

Suddenly, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

Beautiful?

What did that come from?

Hermione admonished herself harshly for this faux pas. ' _I like RON!'_ she repeated this mantra in her mind more than once.

"How long have we been walking?" Bellatrix muttered as she caught up while she rubbed herself warm, billows of visible moisture from her breath with every word as it met the cold air. "Are we close yet?"

"Barely half a mile," Hermione said. "We can still see the mansion from here."

Bellatrix cursed under her breath, suppressing a shiver. "I need to warm up. We will set up camp here. Get to work, muddy!"

Hermione shook her head. "That won't last in the long run. You simply need better clothing!"

"Oh," Bellatrix made a face. "Maybe we'll just have a pop into the nearest Twilfitt and Tattings. Yes, I hear there's one RIGHT THERE BEHIND THAT BIG SODDING ROCK!"

"Stop shouting!" Hermione said. "There's nothing to do about it except to improvise."

"What are you suggesting?" Bellatrix hissed.

Hermione let the rucksack swing from her back and swiftly fished out the tarp. "Here," she said. "First of all, wrap this around you. It'll do as a make-shift travel cloak. Now, we'll have to do something about your boots."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "What about my boots?"

"We'll have to chop off the heel," said Hermione.

"What?!" Bellatrix hissed. "Do you know how much these boots cost?! This is premium dragon leather!"

"And how will that help you when you miss a step and twist or maybe even break your ankle?" replied Hermione. "In the middle of nowhere, with nobody around in miles to help? These boots weren't made for this terrain!"

Bellatrix looked at her with intensity in her eyes, apparently weighing the logic of Hermione's statement. She looked away, let out a frustrated grunt and spat out: "FINE!"

With one hand, Bellatrix detached the hatchet from her belt and motioned for Hermione to grab it by the handle. The moment Hermione took it, she could once again feel the flat of a sword against the underside of her chin. "I swear to you, muddy, one false move..."

It took a few chops with the hatchet for either heel to come off. What Bellatrix was left with were mangled boots, but footwear which was far better suited. The moment she was done, Bellatrix reclaimed the hatchet and, thankfully, put away the sword again.

"Now, there's the matter of your dress," said Hermione. "You need more than just a dress to keep your legs warm."

Hermione's idea was to take two towels from their stack and use them to make legwarmers. But how to keep them in place? Hermione thought on it for a while, until she came up with a solution. There were still a few leather straps left, so her plan was to roll the two towels around Bellatrix's legs, run a strap through the tops and bottom and then cut a hole through the dress on either side to run the straps through to keep them in place.

Getting them fitting was a bit of a chore, though: Bellatrix stood up and glared as she watched Hermione work with all the scrutiny of a paranoid owl. The young witch rolled the dress up in order to fit the make-shift legwarmers, revealing a rather... shapely pair of legs. While holding up the towels to thread the leather straps through them and the dress, she laid her hands on the skin of her thigh and calf and found herself thinking how soft her skin was for being such a harsh creature.

Almost involuntarily, Hermione looked up to meet Bellatrix's gaze. God, the woman was grinning at her. And when she winked, she felt her cheeks flush. Hermione averted her gaze, squared her jaw and finished off her work quickly. With her modified boots, make-shift legwarmers and travel cloak, Bellatrix was at least _somewhat_ fit for travel in this weather and terrain.

As for why her cheeks flushed, Hermione could only blame the cold weather. Yes, that _had_ to be it.

For her part, Bellatrix nodded appreciatively, apparently finding the alterations to be adequate. So far so good, at least: Bellatrix's survival meant Hermione's survival.

"I approve, muddy," Bellatrix gave her an imperious look. "But I'm still not going to fuck you."

Hermione grit her teeth in anger. "I... I don't want you to...to... _fuck_ me. I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sure you don't, sure," one side of Bellatrix's mouth lifted up in a playful, teasing and somehow decidedly wicked gin.

"I LIKE RON!" Hermione shouted at this vile woman, turning around to lead the way while the dark witch let out other another chuckle at her expense.

And so, Hermione led the way along the path she had plotted out while Bellatrix trotted behind her. The two did so mostly in utter silence, with Hermione often stopping to check the map and the compass to see if they were still on track. The terrain was wilder than she had expected and she found herself tiring quickly, as did Bellatrix behind her. There were plenty of breaks, which both witches enjoyed in silence.

When dusk finally settled in, they had barely covered half of the distance Hermione had hoped to cover, but at least they had found a good place to stop to pitch the tent. Thankfully, this wasn't difficult, though Hermione had some issue with pitching the tent: particularly using the wooden mallet to ram the tent pegs into the ground while Bellatrix literally lay a sword on her shoulder, angled dangerously close to her neck.

The tent itself was a sun tent, enclosed on all sides with an umbrella awning above the doorflap and was tall enough for the both of them to stand upright in. Apparently, this tent predated the zipper, so she could only close the doorflap with buttons. Thankfully, they didn't have to contend with midges this time of year.

Another thing which had become apparent enough was her growling stomach and her parched throat. They would need water fairly quickly and might have to risk drinking from a stream. Thankfully, according to the map, one was fairly close, but drinking from a wild stream wasn't her first choice and her nan had always warned against it. A growl from a very different stomach let her know that Bellatrix was in a similar state.

Both equally tired from a long day of walking, the witches retired to their tent where Hermione, after having lit one of the candles with a wandless fire spell, spent some time with Henry David Thoreau. Finally, she allowed herself to relax a bit.

Darkness came quickly. Hermione blew out the candle and decided to put the book down for now: if she'd get into reading at this moment, she'd read until well after midnight and be destroyed in the morning.

Laying in her makeshift sleeping bag, Hermione wondered just how she had gotten herself into this predicament. Near... far too near for her tastes, lay Bellatrix in a makeshift sleeping bag of her own, her curly dark mane sticking out from the top as she lay on her side facing away from her.

At least the tent was holding up quite nicely. This being the Scottish Highlands, it had just started raining profusely and Hermione found the sound of the drops pounding the canvas to be quite soothing. Not a single hole in the canvas, not a single leak in this almost eighty-year old non-magical tent. They didn't make them like they used to.

She was almost startled when the soothing silence was broken by a gruff and sleepy voice. "Muddy," demanded Bellatrix, not bothering to turn towards her. "Put the pots out."

Hermione bristled. Didn't Bellatrix realize just what a dire predicament they were in? Still at least five, maybe six days away from civilization with no food or water and ample supplies at best. Surely she would put some effort in for the sake of her own survival? Only if it meant putting out a few pots to catch some falling rainwater.

"Muddy, go put the pots out," Bellatrix spoke, more forcefully this time. "I won't ask again."

Guess not.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh. Part of her wanted to tell this vile woman to get stuffed and then go back to sleep, but she weighed her options instead. They needed water desperately and Bellatrix at this point was not likely to change her mind and put the pots out.

If she wanted to have drinking water tomorrow, she'd have to do it herself.

The young witch let out a sigh as practicality won out over pride and roughly threw her sleeping bag open. After rummaging through the rucksack to find three pots, she unbuttoned the doorflap and was met with slashing rain across her face and body, blown into the tent from the wind. She put down the pots a bit away from the tent where she thought they would catch the most water and quickly buttoned the tent close again.

Hermione huddled herself from the cold and wetness, dried herself with her jumper and was still shivering when she returned to the warmth of her sleeping bag.

"Good mudpet," was the sleepy taunt coming from Bellatrix, causing the young muggle-born to seethe with anger. Hermione let out a brief annoyed grunt and roughly rolled to her side, with her back to Bellatrix.

And when she heard a brief, mocking cackle coming from Bellatrix, she got even angrier.

* * *

Hermione was the first to awaken and had to admit that she had slept remarkably well. Still, that wasn't surprising after hiking all day yesterday. Bellatrix was apparently still sleeping. The young witch silently crept out of the tent and stretched her legs a bit.

It was cold today. Much colder than yesterday, causing Hermione to quickly zip her jacket close and rub herself a little. They had set up camp near a copse of trees and Hermione looked in the distance, searching a path through the hilly terrain: they'd have to circle around Ben Macdui and follow the River Avon towards Cock Bridge and the visitor's center. Still a far way to go.

Thankfully, it wasn't raining anymore, but the ground was still a bit soggy. To her delight, she found that the three pots she had put out earlier that night had all rained full to the brim. There was enough to fill all three canteens with plenty of water to spare. Hermione was trying to figure out a way to bring this excess water with them, as it seemed like a waste to just leave it. Best way to bring it along for now, was to drink it, though, and Hermione took a big refreshing sip.

Something was moving in the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see a rabbit hopping along the grass. Hermione smiled and watched it for a moment. The carefree bunny sat there, only a few meters away. Unlike her, that bunny didn't have a care in the world. It sat there, munching on a bit of grass when, suddenly, it levitated up in the air. Naturally, the bunny didn't like this and started struggling against this unseen force. Then, just as quickly as it rose from the ground, it shot sideways with overwhelming force, only to meet its skull-shattering end when it collided with one of the trees.

Turning around, Hermione found Bellatrix standing at the door-flap of the tent, arm still outstretched. It seemed Bellatrix had just caught a rabbit in a crude, but effective way.

"Well?" Bellatrix drawled. "What are you waiting for? I didn't kill that poor beast for nothing! Go cook it!"

Hermione sighed. "Good morning to you too, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix said nothing. Instead, she made for one of the pans and grabbed hold of the ladle for few spoons of fresh water to drink. Then, she stared off into the glen without so much as a word, her back turned to Hermione. Hermione went to collect the rabbit in order to make their breakfast. By now her stomach was growling something fierce.

The first order of business was to set up a campfire and a cooking pot. Some old furniture wood they'd picked up from the mansion, together with some dry bark as kindling and a gentle application of tinderbox and a few moments later, the campfire was going.

The second order of business was to skin and gut the rabbit. That wouldn't be easy without something sharp to make an incision... something like the Sword of Gryffindor. Thankfully, Bellatrix wanted to eat as much as she did, so it took little convincing for her to be able to use it. Fortunately this meant that Bellatrix wouldn't be standing over her holding a sword to her neck... unfortunately, it did mean that Bellatrix stood over her holding a raised wooden mallet ready to bash her skull in if she were to make a wrong move.

Her grandmother's wisdom had come to the rescue once more: her nan, having grown up on a farm, had once skinned a rabbit while a very young Hermione watched and, after a few tries, Hermione managed to skin the beast properly by using the hatchet to guide the skin up after having made the incision across the belly. Carved up into bits, the rabbit found itself in the pot slowly turning into a stew. It would be a bit watery and would have little to no seasoning, but it would be a hearty meal that the both of them desperately needed.

About an hour later, the stew was done and both witches ate their half of the stew after having poured it onto the wooden plates they had brought from the mansion. Honestly, Hermione was quite proud of herself.

"Adequate," said Bellatrix after finishing her meal. "Well below house-elf level, but still within expectation."

"Gee, thanks," Hermione replied.

It was finally time to continue their journey. The last thing left to do was to put out the fire and pack up the tent. As Hermione was within the tent undoing the lines and removing the metal rods, she spotted Bellatrix sitting on a log doing an intense study of her nails while waiting impatiently.

"You could help, you know?" a slightly annoyed Hermione called out.

Bellatrix kept studying her nails, barely granting her one segment of one eye. "I could. But I won't."

Hermione bristled as she struggled to fold up the canvas and forced it into her rucksack. Much later than she had wanted to, they were underway.

Despite the many delays, they did make good time going around the mountain, mostly due to the fact they were going downhill. By the time they had reached the River Avon, things were looking up. They were barely a fifth of the way through their journey, but at least the ground would be a lot more even for as long as they could follow the river. Again, the two witches made their way in silence for the most part, which suited Hermione fine.

Pleasant memories of her travels with her nan through the Scottish countryside helped her focus. ' _Hermione_ ,' her nan would often say. ' _London is bad for you. London is bad for everyone. I won't stand by and see you turn into an English city girl. There's proper Scottish blood in you and it's screaming to experience its homeland!'_ And so her nan always dragged her out into nature with every visit and her much older nan always out-walked her.

Ahead of her lay the beautiful Scottish countryside and rather that to think about the difficulties and the hardships ahead, it made her think of the many fun times she had had with her nan and the experience ahead. It was not a hardship to endure, but a challenge to overcome. Hermione couldn't help but think that, if she was still around somewhere, in some form, her nan would be proud of her.

As the journey continued, it was getting much colder now as the sky was overcast and evening was slowly approaching. If she had to hazard a guess, it was three in the afternoon, so there might still be a few hours of travel today. Unfortunately for her, Bellatrix had other plans.

"Do you even know where you are going?" Bellatrix called and Hermione could hear how tired she was.

"We're following the river," replied Hermione. "I showed you on the map."

"Really?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "So then explain to me why the mountains are not behind us..."

"What?" Hermione turned around, only to find the angry dark witch right up in her face. "I..."

"GIVE ME THAT COMPASS!"

"HEY!" Hermione protested but couldn't prevent the dark witch snatching the compass. The dark witch looked at the compass and quickly let out a snarl.

"I KNEW IT!" she shrieked. "I KNEW I COULDN'T TRUST YOU! This compass says we're headed north when we should be headed east!"

"We're following the river!" Hermione tried again. "It bends to the east after a hundred yards! It's on the map! I explained this to you! The terrain is easier to traverse along the riverbed! It's a small detour, but we'll make better time in the long run!"

"Oh, I don't think so, little muddy!" Bellatrix huffed. "I'll be taking charge from now on. Give me the map! I can't trust you!"

"What?!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No! Last time you looked at the map, you didn't even know which side was up!"

"I DON'T CARE! GIVE IT!"

"No!" Hermione retorted while she and the dark witch struggled over the map. "We need this map!"

Bellatrix and Hermione once again ended up on the ground and once again the dark witch was on top of her. The young witch tried to keep the map out of her grip for fear of the older woman accidentally ripping it. There was no shortage of pushing, scratching and hair-pulling until one push actually went too far. The dark witch let out a yelp and lost her balance only to fall down and roll towards the river. Hermione's worst fears were confirmed when she heard a splash and a horrified shriek.

Bellatrix had just made a dunk in an ice-cold river on a day with a temperature only a few degrees above zero.

The seething, waterlogged Bellatrix stood to her waist in the water, dripping wet and snarling like a fiend. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU FILTHY, FILTHY MUDBLOOD CUNTFLAP!"

And so their journey ended for the day. The last of their wood was used to make a larger campfire for Bellatrix to dry and warm herself by. Her clothes hung from a series of sticks punched into the ground and hopefully the warm fire would dry those as well. Bellatrix herself stood naked and shivering underneath a towel while Hermione was setting up the tent. They had lost more time thanks to Bellatrix's antics, but at least Hermione had the compass and the map back.

Hermione looked over at Bellatrix and couldn't help but pity her a little. Though what had happened was definitely her own fault, the shivering Bellatrix just looked... so sad.

Hermione knew she shouldn't pity Bellatrix: the woman was a dark witch, one of Voldemort's foot soldiers and willingly did terrible things. But she couldn't help but to think back to the older Bellatrix she had met. Bellatrix didn't have to be like that: the older Bellatrix seemed stable, sane, kind even. It made her wonder what could have been.

But one thing was certain: falling in love with this woman? That was never going to happen.

Unfortunately for her, Bellatrix had noticed her looks and gave her a wicked grin. "Why are you gazing at me so lustfully, muddy?"

Hermione gulped. "I... I wasn't looking! I was just... thinking."

"Hmmm," Bellatrix grinned and let the towel slide down her back somewhat, exposing her chest to Hermione. Two perfect round orbs greeted Hermione, as well as two dainty hardened nipples. It was hard to deny that Bellatrix was a very, very beautiful woman. "Do you desire me, muddy? Am I not beautiful?"

Hermione swallowed hard and quickly looked away, causing the dark witch to let out a throaty chuckle.

"No, don't say anything, little muddy," Bellatrix winked. "Your blush says enough."

Blush? God, Hermione felt her own cheeks and they were absolutely on fire.

"Why do you do this?" Hermione sighed. "Why do you have to be so crass and awful? Is everything just a game to you?"

"Awwwww," Bellatrix pouted. "Is my little muddy sad? Well, don't worry. I'd never even touch you in my worst nightmares."

Hermione gazed upon Bellatrix, wondering just how she would be able to get away from this monster of a woman. Bellatrix, however, unrelenting Bellatrix, gave her a coy grin. "Hey mudblood. Eyes are up here," she let out a girlish giggle, to which Hermione let out an annoyed grunt and rushed into the tent, hearing Bellatrix's mocking laughter from the other side of the canvas.

"I LIKE RON!" she shouted back as she dove into her sleeping bag, fighting her tears.

Thankfully, Bellatrix left her alone for a while and Hermione could spend some more quality time with Henry David Thoreau. She was some forty pages in when Bellatrix stumbled into the tent and wordlessly found her sleeping bag. At first Hermione paid her no mind and continued reading, until she heard the clattering of teeth. Hermione put her book down and turned her head to the dark witch. Bellatrix lay visibly shivering in her sleeping bag, never having quite warmed up. The young witch let out a sigh and put down her book.

Bellatrix's survival was her own survival.

Hermione got out of her sleeping bag and crept over to Bellatrix's. Of course, the dark witch noticed her approach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bellatrix hissed through clattering teeth as Hermione opened her sleeping bag.

"You'll catch your death of cold," said Hermione. "What we're going to do is share body heat."

"Don't! How dare..."

"Yes, yes, you'll kill me, hurt me, pull my hair, press my face into the fire, I've heard it all before," Hermione replied. "All you have to do is to keep lying there."

At least that shut the dark witch up for now, which was a blessing on its own.

Hermione pulled up her shirt and pressed her bare back against Bellatrix's, only to hiss when their skin touched. "God, you're as cold as a stone!"

"And whose fault is that?!" Bellatrix snarled.

"So let me fix it," Hermione said. "And stop complaining."

"I didn't say 'stop', now did I?" Bellatrix retorted.

The two of them barely fit into the sleeping bag together, but it did well to keep their skin pressed together so hopefully that would warm up Bellatrix a bit. Tomorrow would be another day and she hoped Bellatrix would be in a better mood then. Tiredness quickly overtook her and she fell into a blissful sleep.

When she woke up, it was undoubtedly still night. The sounds of the night surrounded the tent and a sleepy Hermione found herself surrounded by warmth. That was actually quite nice, until her sleepy mind recollected that she was not in her own sleeping bag.

Two arms were snaked around her waist and a warm body was pressed against her. Warm. Good. That meant Bellatrix was doing better. But... hadn't they been back to back earlier tonight? How come there were two arms around her waist? Carefully and slowly as to no potentially upset the dark witch and end up in a world of pain, Hermione craned her neck to see behind her. She was astonished to see the sleeping witch pressing into her back. Bellatrix... looked so peaceful as she slept. So... innocent even.

Her chest rose and fell as she slept and, to some horror, she realized that Bellatrix had been naked... and still was. Her soft body was pressing into hers. Her impossibly soft breasts slid over her back with every breath.

Hermione once again swallowed hard while she realized just how _nice_ this felt.

"I like Ron," she whispered into the darkness. "I like Ron... I like Ron... I like Ron... I like..."

She repeated this mantra over and over again until sleep claimed her once more.

* * *

Willa Vembulom was beyond elated to have been chosen for this particular task. She and her two fellows Barulus Brattlehorn and Crys Wiggemole were recent recruits to the Death Eater cause. All three of them were too young to have fought in the first wizarding war at the Dark Lord's side but were now granted a chance at glory.

All three of them were from smaller, less prominent wizarding families from all over Britain and Ireland. To her shame, she herself was a half-blood, but she believed in the cause of a purer wizarding world and so did her fellows. Today's mission was a chance to prove themselves and gain favor in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

Ever since the incident at Malfoy Manor and the strange disappearance of Madam Lestrange, his most trusted lieutenant, the Dark Lord had been growing increasingly paranoid. She'd heard the stories from Death Eaters higher up the ladder who were in his inner circle; how he'd fly into a rage at the slightest provocation, how he had killed loyal followers for no apparent reason.

Well, that wouldn't happen to her. Not after tonight.

Rain slashed over her face, soaking her robe as the three of them flew their brooms high over the churning North Sea. They'd come in from the water under the cover of darkness, fly over the wizarding quarter of Montrose, bombard it with spells to do as much damage as possible and finish it off with a Morsmordre in the sky before returning home.

It was a terror mission, pure and simple. To let the wizarding world know that the Dark Lord was still a danger and still looming over their lives.

The wind whipped in her face as, in the distance over the sea, a bolt of lightning hit the water. She turned to look to take in the sight and... wait. Where was Barulus? She looked around for a moment but there were absolutely no signs of him ever having been there. It was just her and Crys on the broom. Had he fallen behind? Was he, perhaps, approaching Montrose from another direction and forgot to tell them? Willa was about to call Crys over when, to her horror, something caught the end of his broom.

With the broom literally pulled from under his arse, the screaming man started to plummet down. Willa could only stare in horror as her comrade slammed into the water far below, after the fall that was absolutely not survivable beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Willa looked around frantically, below and above her, where whatever it was that hit Crys' broom was coming from, but the culprit presented himself or herself quickly enough: a broomrider, long black cloak billowing in the wind and on his or her face, a long beak-shaped mask. Fear gripped her by the throat – if the stories were to be believed, this was the masked vigilante who had managed to infiltrate Malfoy manor and defeat Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix Lestrange! If this person could take _her_ down, what chance did Willa have? However, the young Death Eater would not go down easily. She drew her wand and tried to keep her broom steady while launching a few attacks.

The masked figure didn't even bother to dodge and, really, they didn't have to. The shot was wide and missed her by a mile. The figure went into a dive so quickly she was out of sight. Still flying at top speed, Willa desperately tried to find her opponent, only to have her fly in from the other side and slam hard into her own broom.

The young Death Eater yelped and it was all she could do to keep herself from being knocked off her broom, only to be slammed into again and again. Whoever this masked figure was, he or she must have been brutal at Quidditch. The only way Willa thought to escape was through dipping her broom down and to accelerate towards land. She couldn't outduel or outrun the masked rider, but perhaps she could find a hiding spot somewhere.

The mission was over and it was obvious that the masked rider was out for her blood. The ease with which he or she had mercilessly taken out her fellows made that quite clear. But Willa found out soon enough that there was no escape.

Now nearing Montrose, the masked rider slammed into her again, but this time following up the assault with a few stunners which she barely managed to block. Her eyes were locked with the dead soulless windows of the rider's mask, turned towards her with a baleful, mocking stare. The two raced over the houses of Montrose, eyes locked, wands at the ready and then...

The masked rider veered off?

The rider simply gave up the chase. Still, Willa didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth and turned her head to look forward.

Willa barely had time to scream before her career as a Death Eater ended in a resounding crash after she flew right into the spire of Montrose's iconic Old and St Andrew's Church.

* * *

From her perch on the rooftops, Bellatrix watched as the wizards and muggles of Montrose had come to investigate the rather painful looking fall of the young Death Eater. She found the whole thing rather amusing, to be fair and it would no doubt set muggle tongues wagging for days to come. “Rule number one of broom-flying, kid,” Bellatrix whispered to the wind. “Always watch where you're going.”

What was her name again? Willa something? Well, she was about to find out that the wizards of Montrose... and Scotland on the whole... took a rather dim view of English Death Eaters coming up North to destroy their houses. She would soon be handed over to the Order where she would spill the beans almost immediately and help them nip several other planned terror missions in the bud.

So in that way, the young woman's misfortune would serve a good cause: driving the Dark Lord into an ever increasing pit of paranoia and erratic behaviour.

Still, the dark witch hissed as she felt the side of her neck and stretched a little. These three didn't exactly pose much of a challenge, but slamming into that woman had taken a bit of a toll. "You're getting too old for this, Bella," Bellatrix muttered to no one in particular. Her Quidditch days had been over for a long time and broom riding was something best saved for lazy Sundays with her children... her family.

Circe's tits, she missed her family so much...

But at least she would be able to take out her frustrations on Voldemort's lackeys.


	5. Self-evident

When Hermione woke up she found herself alone in her sleeping bag. Or rather, Bellatrix's sleeping bag. After letting out a yawn, Hermione pulled down her shirt and got up. When she opened the doorflap, a sunny morning greeted her. It was still very much cold, so she quickly zipped up her coat again. Naturally, the campfire had gone out, but more interestingly, Bellatrix's clothes were gone and the dark witch herself was nowhere in sight.

For a moment, Hermione considered that Bellatrix might have actually left her here to set off on her own. And since Hermione still had all the supplies, that meant she could get out of here safely and could rejoin her friends. She felt happy. She felt elated. She felt relieved.

Until her hopes were crudely dashed by a dead rabbit being tossed down at her feet.

"Cook!" the dark witch demanded as she stalked from behind the tent, fully dressed and fully herself again.

At least she was doing something to help, Hermione considered as she picked up the dead rabbit to make some more stew. The campfire, of course, had gone out by now, but there seemed to be a few good pieces of wood left. A bit of deadwood added to it could make the fire burn hot enough to cook.

The resulting stew was quickly consumed and, after breaking camp, the two witches were once again under way, following the river east. As usual, Hermione led the way, often checking the map and the compass while the dark witch followed in silence. Unfortunately, the easy terrain was now behind them , as they soon encountered more hilly ground and jutting rocks, forcing the both of them to have a bit of a scramble as the day passed on. A few hours into the hike, Hermione called for a rest stop to see if they were still on track and also took a look at the sky. The sky, she found, was a dark gray, much darker than yesterday and it also seemed the wind was picking up. If she'd hazard a guess, they'd be looking at pretty bad weather for the next couple of days.

Hearing a curse behind her, she turned around and found that her traveling companion had made a misstep and ended up with her knee in the mud. Part of her dress and boot were now covered with grime and dirt and the dark witch let out a heinous cry in frustration, picking up a rock and hurling it away... thankfully not _at_ Hermione for once.

"Let's take a bit of a breather," she said, holding out her canteen for the dark witch to take. Bellatrix stared angrily at her for a moment.

"Are you implying I'm too weak?!" Bellatrix hissed, snatched the canteen from her hand and took a big sip.

"What?" Hermione blinked. "I said nothing of the sort."

"We keep moving," Bellatrix pressed. "I don't need your pity, muddy."

Despite taking a dunk yesterday, Bellatrix was covered with dirt, sweat, splatters of mud and was obviously tiring. Hermione herself wasn't feeling very spritely at the moment and after three days without washing, she reckoned she probably didn't smell very nice either. Still, as if to prove a point, Bellatrix pressed on... only to promptly slide into the mud again. This time with her other knee.

A litany of curses followed as the dark witch sat down on a rock to pat herself clean. Rage was etched on her face as she turned her gaze to Hermione. "This must please you, little mudblood! You think this experience has brought me down to your filthy level! Enjoy being my guide for now, muddy, but remember... I am still the one in control! I hold your leash."

It was then that Hermione realized that Bellatrix was absolutely not in control and was certainly not holding her leash. No, Bellatrix needed to have the feeling of being in control, because right now, she was a complete fish out of water. No magic, no luxuries, no quick fixes. And she didn't like that.

The balance of power between them had been shifting somewhat, as Hermione realized that the dark witch had realized that she was completely dependent on her for getting out of the sanctuary.

"We take a short break," said Hermione, sitting down on a rock near Bellatrix and taking a moment to study the map, looking for landmarks around her and trying to determine how far they still had to go.

"Falling in love yet?" Bellatrix replied in a mocking tone.

"Not even in the slightest," Hermione replied. "Honestly, I don't know what the other you was thinking."

"If she's as barmy as I am, she probably wasn't thinking at all," Bellatrix drawled. "And I'm supposed to end up living here? As soon as I'm out of this gods-be-damned sanctuary, I never want to hear the name Cairngorms again in my entire life!"

"It is rather nice to look at, at least."

"Look at, certainly," said Bellatrix as she gazed in the distance. "But not to traipse through, muddy. How much longer?"

"If the map is right, we're almost half of the way through," said Hermione. "If we keep up our current pace, it'll be three more nights at most."

Bellatrix let out an annoyed grunt. "Poor Cissy must be so worried about me," she spoke and Hermione was surprised by her sincerity. Perhaps she shouldn't be: even wicked people such as Bellatrix could have loving families, after all.

She thought of the older Bellatrix and the supposed family she would have with her in the future. It was still bizarre to her although, she had to admit that the older Bellatrix was a lot nicer than the wicked witch in front of her. It was encouraging to think that Bellatrix... the younger Bellatrix... still had the ability to change and grow. The older Bellatrix had rescued her from torture and treated her well... but then left her in the clutches of her deranged younger self. So what did that say about her, really? She understood that she would want her family together, but the idea of falling in love with this deranged witch was beyond ludicrous.

And then there was the fact that, at one point, they would leave the sanctuary and return to civilization. What would happen then? Hermione doubted that they would go their separate ways. More likely, she would be a prisoner again, destined to be dragged off to Malfoy Manor where Bellatrix would finish what she'd started. The idea filled her with dread.

For now, however, the dark witch was dependent on her and Hermione hoped that Bellatrix wouldn't forget how she had helped her.

Perhaps there would be an opportunity to escape later on. They'd end up in the muggle world, after all, and she had no wand.

"So, muddy," Bellatrix looked intently at her. "I take it you have some experience with this whole camping lark?"

"Only some," replied Hermione. "I often spent summers with my grandmother when I was a lot younger. Before Hogwarts, I mean. She's from Scotland and lived in a country cottage west of Aberdeen. ' _Hermione_ ', she'd always tell me. ' _Stop sticking your nose into those books and come out to experience the real world_ '. We'd go out hiking and camping. She taught me how to fish, recognize which berries were edible and which are not, find wild herbs, how to pitch a tent. Basic survival stuff."

Hermione smiled to herself. "I once saw her get into an argument with a Glaswegian easily two times her size, and she was so full of fire and fury that she actually made the man back away from her. She let me taste my first glass of whiskey... when I was eight. God, my mum was so angry with her."

Memories mixed with guilt for missing her funeral. Hermione cast her eyes downward. "I miss her," she said. "I wish I'd have visited more often during my Hogwarts years."

Bellatrix had listened in silence and while Hermione had expected only mockery, the dark witch offered none. In fact, she had almost looked interested when Hermione answered her question. Bellatrix pursed her lips, cast her eyes down before recounting a tale of her own. "My parents both died while I was in Azkaban, both relatively young. Wizards can live to be well over a hundred and fifty, easily, but my family is notoriously unlucky, it seems. It was an accident that did my father in. Some stupid potioneering accident, a mistake he of all people never should have made. My mother died a few months after. Healers never knew what was wrong with her, but I think she died of a broken heart after losing two of her daughters and then her husband. We were a loving family... once."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"What did I say about not wanting your pity?" Bellatrix spoke menacingly, but her expression softened somewhat. "But I suppose I appreciate the sentiment well enough. I assure you though, muddy, that _I_ will not die young. I will defy our family's misfortune and live a long and full life."

" _As long as Voldemort will allow you to,_ " Hermione thought wryly. Still, if the older Bellatrix was any indication, Bellatrix would be true to her word.

"Muddy," said Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord's impending victory doesn't necessarily have to end with your demise. Once we free the wizarding world, true wizards and witches will need talented servants. I would be in need of a handmaiden once I return the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to its rightful glory. You've proven to be more than adequate, but you should still learn your place. I'd be more than happy to teach you."

Hermione tried to keep her expression neutral. "Gee. Thanks."

"You are, of course, most welcome," replied Bellatrix, oblivious to Hermione's distaste for the idea of becoming her handmaiden. "Shall we move on?"

As the two of them started walking again, a horrible thought came over Hermione. The older Bellatrix had shown her a picture of a loving family, but had never actually told her how this loving family came to be. Was... was putting them together in this way merely meant for her younger self to warm up to her enough to not kill her and basically enslave her as a servant?! Did this supposed love only bloom much later between a slave and a lady of the manor? Was that what her life was going to be? It wasn't appealing. It was less than appealing. In fact, it was appalling.

She looked over her shoulders and found Bellatrix following her as per usual, without complaint and with grim determination on her face.

No, Hermione wouldn't allow herself to become a slave.

Perhaps she was simply being paranoid, though. If the older Bellatrix had really loved her enough to travel back in time to make sure her family would happen, she doubted it would be a slave-master relationship. Or maybe she was being naively hopeful. So much of this simply did not make sense.

' _I like Ron!'_ thought Hermione. ' _I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but that nice family of yours is simply not going to happen.'_

* * *

The tent was once again bombarded with soothing rain as the two witches lay under the protective canvas. As luck would have it, they hadn't been pelted with rain during their walking. But, considering this was Scotland, she was almost certain that luck wouldn't hold. As it stood, the rain would replenish their dwindling water supply.

Evening had fallen, but Hermione wasn't all that tired yet. Deciding to spend some more time with Thoreau, she put in a bit more reading before bed. Next to her, Bellatrix was already sleeping. But, from the sounds and looks of it, she was having a bit of a rough night.

Hermione looked to her side when she heard Bellatrix tossing and turning and, after a glance, determined that she was, in fact, still asleep. She decided it was best to ignore it for now and continued reading.

"N-no," sounded from Bellatrix. It wasn't a tone of voice she had heard from her before, a mixture of sadness and desperation. Bellatrix tossed and turned some more.

"D-don't go," whispered Bellatrix in her sleep. "Don't... don't leave..."

More tossing and turning. Hermione put her book down and watched the dark witch as she struggled in her sleep. Hermione was still looking at her when her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, the dark witch looked confused, her jaw stiffening a little when dream mixed with reality.

"Bad dream?" Hermione asked. It was politeness more than anything. The past few months, she'd experienced both Harry and Ron waking up after a particularly bad dream and they'd usually chat about it over a cup of tea. Not that she was expecting this would happen with Bellatrix, far from it. But still, it seemed like a kindness to ask.

It was a kindness which was not appreciated. Bellatrix seemed to realize where she was and let out a brief growl. "Mind your own business, mudblood!" she spat and rolled to her side, facing away.

"Suit yourself," said Hermione and continued reading.

Barely a page turned and she could once again hear Bellatrix tossing and turning. Eventually, the dark witch ended up laying on her back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain.

"Muddy?" she asked.

"Hm?" Hermione responded, not looking up from her book.

"Read me a bit from that book you seem to enjoy so much," she stated.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because I asked," replied Bellatrix. Though it was most definitely a demand, it was lacking the acidic forcefulness and implied threats of the past few days. "Perhaps it will help me sleep," she added.

"Very well," said Hermione. "I was about to start a new chapter anyway. Now where... ah... _This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense, and imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange liberty in Nature, a part of herself. As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt sleeves, though it is cool as well as cloudy and windy, and I see nothing special to attract me, all the elements are unusually congenial to me. The bullfrogs trump to usher in the night, and the note of the whippoorwill is borne on the rippling wind from over the water. Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled."_

Hermione fell silent for a moment, looking to her side to see Bellatrix laying calmly on her back breathing rhythmically with her eyes closed. For a moment, Hermione thought her traveling companion was sleeping, but a tired voice came forth. "Go on," sounded a soft and gentle voice. At first Hermione thought it impossible that it had come from Bellatrix... in fact, it had sounded much like how the older Bellatrix had sounded when they had first met. Soft. Gentle. Vulnerable.

" _These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now dark, the wind still blows and roars in the wood, the waves still dash, and some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never complete. The wildest animals do not repose, but seek their prey now; the fox, and skunk, and rabbit, now roam the fields and woods without fear. They are Nature's watchmen,—links which connect the days of animated life._ "

Bellatrix was most definitely asleep now, looking again as innocent as she had looked yesterday. Hermione put her book away. It was time to catch some sleep anyway. But when she lay on her side, thinking about the events of the day, she couldn't help but feel that something between her and Bellatrix was changing.

* * *

Bellatrix was standing on the rooftop of an office building in Manchester, near the central business district. As with many office buildings this time at night, they were darkened and deserted as all the muggles had gone home. Of course, there were a few workaholics here and there, judging from a handful of lit windows. Aside from them, there was some nightlife here; a few clubs were open and from her perch she could spot a 24-hour gym. These things, however, did not hold her interest.

Somewhere out here, was Antonin Dolohov, charged with a mission to sniff out an Order safehouse. Of course, Bellatrix knew exactly where this safehouse was: it was documented in historical texts, after all. The safehouse was under water, hidden in one of the canals running through Spinningfields and accessed through a portkey disguised as a lamppost. Of course, Antonin wouldn't be aware of this.

However, Bellatrix knew Antonin well enough that he would undoubtedly be close to finding it by now. He undoubtedly had set up a base of operations from which to launch a systematic search of the entire CBD... but where?

She surveyed the area and saw three construction sites, which she considered his likeliest hiding spot. These places were quite easy to make unplottable and hide entire sections of in a magical bubble. She picked the one that closest to a pub and started her search there: she knew Antonin had a thing for craft ales and would often spend time at muggle pubs to sample their wares.

With her wand out, she carefully crept onto the construction site and moved from floor to floor, roving her wand in front of her in hopes of finding some sort of magical trace. She apparated from floor to floor until she arrived on the fourth, where it was swiftly proven that her first guess had been the correct one. Concrete bits and dust exploded around her when she barely managed to dodge a barrage of magic which hit one of the wall slabs instead. Instantly, Bellatrix took cover behind a pillar and tried to gauge the situation: she was in a large open area which in its future would be a work space for something called a 'call center'. Large, dark, with about a dozen pillars to hide behind. There were a few windows she could attempt to escape from if things went sour, but that would leave her wide open for a counter attack.

She studied the angle of the impact and determined that Antonin could be anywhere at the far side of the large space. Her hypothesis was confirmed when she swiftly moved to another pillar some five meters away, firing off a few stunners randomly to cover herself.

"Come for another Death Eater scalp, have you?" sounded the vaguely Russian accent from the other side of the room, echoing slightly because of the empty acoustics of the room. Apparently, he had been quite aware she'd been skulking about the neighborhood: she should have expected that, really.

Bellatrix decided to move forward, to yet another pillar, hoping to get closer to him step by step. She blocked a few incoming spells and dove behind the forward pillar, feeling the impact of magic as it hit and shattered more concrete. This game continued on until she was close enough to get a feel for where the man actually was: Antonin hadn't been moving himself, but was hiding behind a pallet filled with bags of cement which would be used to glue the concrete slabs in place. A good choice, really, since that would very effectively block her spells without any effort from him: she'd have to find a way to flush him out.

She was much closer now, close enough for the two to duel directly if need be. Clutching her wand so tightly that her knuckles had gone white, she flung herself into the open and cast her spell: a bombarda right above his head, causing a hail of concrete and dust to fall down behind the hiding spot. Rather than be crushed by falling debris, Dolohov chose to jump to the side and out into the open, where Bellatrix was waiting for him. A fierce duel ensued.

Antonin was just as she remembered him to be in these days: relentless, calculated and calm. Magic crackled through the air as spells and hexes flew back and forth. For the first time, her mask had become a detriment since it blocked her peripheral vision somewhat while she was moving about wildly to block incoming spells. Her attempt to do a finishing move on him involved twisting herself around a pillar and then, rather than rolling around the other side, coming back on the same side and blasting him off his feet with a massive stunner.

Instead, Antonin anticipated this and Bellatrix had to quickly correct by blocking. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough and his signature spell clipped her in the shoulder. Bellatrix cried out in pain after rolling back against the pillar. It was as if the bone in her upper arm had turned to glass and flesh to rubber: her left arm hung lamely to her side and any movement caused her to hiss in pain. Thankfully, her wand arm was fine, so she could finish the job she started if it would come to that. But she wasn't here to kill today.

She heard footsteps approach and stop some five meters away, obviously the nearest pillar was where Dolohov was.

"What have you done with Bellatrix?" Dolohov demanded. "Is she still alive, even?"

It was then that Bellatrix took the risk and stepped out into the open, wand at her side. "What?" she spoke, her voice muffled through her mask. "Don't you recognize me?"

A moment of silence.

"Bella?" sounded a surprised voice as Dolohov stepped out as well, his wand raised.

Hissing through the pain, Bellatrix used her left arm to lower her hood and slip off the mask. It fell to the ground while Dolohov looked at her warily. "You look different," he stated.

" _Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth_ ," Bellatrix stated.

" _Walden_?" Dolohov raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you read muggle philosophy."

A smile crept on her lips. "I practically know that book by heart," replied Bellatrix. "And you've certainly introduced me to enough muggle philosophy. Even if I didn't know that at the time."

Antonin let out the chuckle which Bellatrix met with one of her own. In these days, Antonin Dolohov had been the closest thing to a friend her younger self had. In Azkaban, their cells had been close together. Close enough for the two of them to often have conversations, many of them of a deeply philosophical nature. In one of his future books yet to be written, ironically Antonin credited her as the reason he survived Azkaban with his sanity intact. In the future, he'd become a friend of the family and he and Hermione would sometimes reminisce about their encounter at Tottenham Court Road.

That was the future, however. This was now.

"If you are here to bring me truth," Antonin said. "Why don't you start with telling me what happened at Malfoy Manor?"

Bellatrix chuckled. "I had to teach myself a lesson," she replied.

"Yourself?" Antonin frowned.

"Now that I have some personal experience," said Bellatrix. "I have to say I strongly favor eternalism over presentism."

Antonin's eyes grew wild. "Time travel! How far?"

"Twenty-one years," said Bellatrix. "Give or take a few months."

"Twenty-one?" Antonin blinked. "Temporal magic's inherent instability..."

"It works," said Bellatrix. "With a unique modified time-turner which took over ten years to design, test and produce. My own work, Hermione's, but mostly McGonagall's. I was meant to travel backwards."

"The Grandfather paradox?" asked Antonin.

"It cannot exist," replies Bellatrix. "It seems that I cannot change anything that has happened. I am here because I have to be present for certain events to be set in motion. Even if I don't want to, I am compelled to do the things I need to do."

"Interesting," Antonin rubbed his chin. "You're talking about a stable time loop."

Bellatrix nodded. "Say me and my younger self meet. We duel, but I cannot kill her at any point, for she is destined to become me, travel back in time and eventually duel her own self. My younger self, however, can kill me without consequence, as I will effectively be the end of the causality chain at that point."

"That would leave you at a severe disadvantage, but there are further implications."

"Oh?"

"The fact that you exist in the past at all and if your theory about eternalism is correct, our Bellatrix will literally be immortal until the causality loop is closed. That means nobody and nothing can kill Bellatrix... my Bellatrix... for the next twenty-one years," replied Dolohov. "Hah, knowing Bella, she'll be so delighted when she learns that."

"That she will be," Bellatrix chuckled.

Antonin put his fingers to his lips, deep in thought. "That leaves one question, though. If your presence here does effect the time-stream and changes the past, which in turn changes the future, how would you even know if you have changed things if said change is instantaneous if both present, past and future?"

Bellatrix let out a brief sigh. "I wouldn't," she said. "And that scares the hell out of me."

"You seem different. Calmer."

"Saner?" Bellatrix winked.

"Well..." Antonin shot her an apologetic look.

Bellatrix paced a little, rubbing her still sore arm. "It took me a lot of work to get here. I want my happy ending, Antonin. I came back because I was supposed to. To set in motion the fall of the Dark Lord and end the Death Eater cause."

"Way things have been going lately, I'm not surprised," said Antonin.

"I know you want out," replied Bellatrix. For a moment, she could see a flash of fear cross his face: of course, this would be a deeply held personal secret and the Bellatrix he had known was an utterly loyal servant whom, friends or not, would have ratted him out to the Dark Lord without so much as a second thought. "But after Azkaban, you had nowhere else to go and simply had no other choice than to follow a cause you no longer believe in."

"Who told you..." he was about to ask, until he caught himself. " _I_ must have told you. In the future."

"You did personally, yes" said Bellatrix. "And you've told the world in the book you wrote about your experiences."

"I finally wrote a book?" Dolohov replied, looking rather happy about it too.

"More than one, you're quite prolific," said Bellatrix. "Hell, you basically wrote _the_ book about ethics in magical research."

"Hah! Who wants an ethics lesson from a former Death Eater?"

"Plenty of people, it turns out," Bellatrix replied. "Something else though. Our _beloved_ Dark Lord. How's he doing right now?"

Antonin snorted. "Do you want an honest answer or a vaguely evasive one?"

"Give me truth."

"He's going completely off the deep end," replied Dolohov. "He's got half his Death Eaters looking for you and the other half looking for the mysterious assailant whom he believes is an Order battlemage of some sort. Lucius is completely in the doghouse now and the Dark Lord has left the manor because he doesn't trust the manor's security anymore."

"Not realizing I could simply walk right in because the manor's security spells don't distinguish between a younger me and an older me," Bellatrix chuckled. "Priceless. Where is he now?"

"Ogof Ftynnon Ddu," replied Antonin. "A cave in Wales, behind countless amounts of wards, traps and bodyguards."

"A cave," Bellatrix snorted. "He's hiding in a cave..."

"Not only that," said Antonin. "But he's recalled Death Eaters from key positions within the Ministry and Hogwarts. His strategy is completely on the defensive, turtling up as it were. He's planning more terror attacks. I suspect we'll be losing control of the Ministry soon."

"My plan is working then," Bellatrix mused, looking rather pleased with herself. "He's starting to lose it."

"I'd say that," said Antonin. "He flies off into a tangent about his 'masked tormentor' far too often and has actually killed loyal servants for the slightest of infractions. He used the killing curse on Gibbon for merely looking him in the eye. Some of our fellows have been... talking..."

Bellatrix grinned. "Prime time for defections to start happening, no?"

"Who?"

"You, for starters," said Bellatrix. "And you don't have to worry about anything. None of the defectors will wind up dead and you won't be discovered."

"Somehow I doubt I'll have an easy time convincing any of them," said Antonin. "I think I can convince Thorfinn, at least. Who else?"

"Thorfinn is indeed one," said Bellatrix. "Rookwood, the Snydes, Penelope. Only them. No more. No less."

"Yaxley?"

"No," Bellatrix shook her head. "Don't even try."

Dolohov closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Dammit."

"I know you are friends, but history states Yaxley dies with his lord," Bellatrix said. "Remember. Thorfinn, Rookwood, the Snydes, Penelope. Nobody else. Don't take the risk."

Antonin nodded grimly. "Just out of curiosity? What will happen? I'd hate for all of us to risk our lives only for us to be tossed back into Azkaban with the dementors."

Bellatrix nodded. It was a fair question. "I won't lie, we won't get off scot-free. None of us do. But we won't be put away for life in Azkaban either. Think rehabilitation and healing, house-arrest and eventually freedom after a few years. Look at it this way, you'll have some free time to work on your books."

"Hm, that was to be expected."

"It'll be worth it," said Bellatrix. "I need you to do something else for me."

"What?" Dolohov chuckled. "Risking my life to start an insurrection against my own Dark Lord isn't enough?"

Bellatrix fished a piece of paper from a pocket in her robe. "I need you to send a couple of snatchers to this location in three days. Make sure they're very dumb and very mean."

Antonin studied the paper. "This is... in the middle of nowhere. Why there?"

"You'll find out," said Bellatrix. "Enjoy the pub for the next two days and then go back to the Dark Lord to tell him that the rumors of an Order safehouse in this area were untrue. He'll believe you."

"And what will you be doing?"

"What I've been doing for the past year," said Bellatrix as she replaced her mask and covered her head with her hood. "Making the Order stronger and the Death Eaters weaker."


	6. Self-harm

On the fourth day of travel, what they had dreaded finally happened: caught in very bad weather with rain pouring down on them and the wind whipping around them, both witches found themselves wet and winded. They had a decision to make: waste an entire day sitting in their tent waiting for the weather to improve or using whatever they had left on their pile of dry towels as improvised rain clothing and press on. They decided the latter, though after a few hours in this dreadful weather, both witches were rather regretting that decision.

Even though it was midday, the sky was so dark that it almost looked to be evening. Rolling dark clouds promised more rain to come rather than blessed relief. It didn't help that the slash of rain impeded their vision somewhat, so the sudden roadblock of a three meter high wrought-iron fence came as a complete surprise. The fence itself looked to be in a state of disrepair, rusting at some points and overgrown with wild foliage. Despite all that, it stood firm and proud.

"Have we reached the edge of the Sanctuary?" Bellatrix asked, her voice raised to shout over the wind.

Hermione, taking some effort to keep the map and compass as dry as possible, studied the terrain and gauged their distance to the mountains. "No," she replied. "We're not even close. This fence isn't on the map either. Should we try to climb over it?"

Bellatrix said nothing. Instead, she picked up a pebble and threw it over the fence, only for the pebble's arc to stop above the fence where it met a crackle of magic and immediately fell back down. "It's some sort of holding pen, I think," Bellatrix reasoned. "It's still active. Looks like they didn't bother to shut it down when they abandoned the sanctuary."

"Dammit," Hermione muttered as she looked in both directions and didn't see an end to the fence on either side. Admittedly, she couldn't see very far, but still this wasn't very promising. Checking the map, she wondered how big this pen was only to come to the conclusion that this cordoned-off section of the Sanctuary could be as small as a zoo pen or as big as an entire dale. "This might add days to our journey."

"Of course it will," Bellatrix yelled out, kicking away a pebble for good measure. "Bugger this sanctuary!"

"I think we should find shelter and weigh our options," said Hermione. "Maybe dry ourselves off a bit."

Bellatrix grunted in dismay, obviously upset with this setback. Thankfully, the dark witch didn't seem to be taking it out on her. Together, they followed the fence for a little while, looking for a good place to pitch the tent and set camp for the time being while they decided what to do. This was further complicated when they came across a fallen tree. The tree had fallen onto the fence and had flattened a large part of it, nullifying the warding spell. The two witches regarded this for a moment.

"I wonder what was in here? They went through some trouble to separate this area from the rest of the sanctuary," Hermione asked while Bellatrix stepped closer to the opening in the face to study it.

"We could risk it," Bellatrix muttered. "But, of course, we don't know if we'll find an exit. Circe's tits, we don't even know if we're inside the pen already or if this hole in the fence is our only way out!"

Hermione was suddenly overcome with a rather uncomfortable feeling: she was certain that she was being watched. While Bellatrix continued talking about taking their chances with this newly found break in the fence, Hermione frantically looked around and listened carefully.

There was an odd sound barely audible over the wind and the rain and it took a few moments for Hermione to identify it as a rumbling low growl. Then, she spotted it: in the underbrush, far closer to them than she would have liked, a set of yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. Never looking away from this piercing set of hungry eyes as she backed up slowly.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione kept her voice low as to not provoke what was inside the underbrush.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix kept talking, apparently either not hearing her or ignoring her.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione tried again, somewhat louder this time.

Nothing.

"Bellatrix!" Hermione hissed, this time getting a reaction.

"WHAT?!" Bellatrix snapped at her, causing Hermione to instinctively shift her gaze from the set of eyes to the dark witch. Instantly, something... big... darted towards them both.

"LOOK OUT!" Hermione shouted and pushed an unaware Bellatrix out of the way before the creature slammed into her, knocking her to the ground where she landed on her back.

Pain. Absolute blinding pain overcame the young witch as she lay on her back and heard growls and shouts nearby. With utmost effort, Hermione craned her neck upward and let out a fearful cry when she realized she had been mauled. Three deep gashes ran from her left side halfway over her belly, having cut through her clothes, skin and muscle. Her clothes were being soaked with warm blood as it welled up from the wounds. With some effort, Hermione pushed herself away with her legs, crying out in pain with every movement until she could prop herself up against a tree. She quickly rolled up one of the towels and applied pressure to the wounds as best she could to try to stop the bleeding.

She found herself shivering from pain and fear as more blood welled up despite her best efforts. Only now did she look to see what had done this to her. She got her answer soon enough when she saw the actual creature.

It was a wyvern: a land-locked cousin of the dragon, lethal and fierce. This particular specimen was almost five meters long as it stood on all four legs. More serpentine than a flying dragon, this creature was all muscle and claw. Its horned head sported large yellow eyes and quadruple-hinged jaws, extended into four mandibles with razor sharp teeth. Its tail whipped in fury as the creature stalked like a panther facing... Bellatrix.

The dark witch stood facing the creature with rage etched on her face. In her hand was the Sword of Gryffindor as she stood ready to defend herself. It was then that she realized that Bellatrix was actually blocking the creature from getting to _her_. The wyvern wanted to finish her off and claim its prey, causing Hermione to gulp: she did not fancy meeting her end to that awful four-hinged maw.

The wyvern wasn't too happy about Bellatrix's interference and let out a few bellows to voice its displeasure. Not that Bellatrix was in any way impressed: she held out the sword and stood in a defensive stance. The creature reared and charged: Bellatrix didn't hesitate for a moment and threw out her arm, releasing a flurry of lights right into the creature's face. It was a simple cantrip, easy to do without a wand, but it did the trick. The creature was confused enough for the dark witch to be able to sidestep the creature and slash at it with the sword. The beast howled as a long gash was cut into the side of its serpentine body.

This alone was not enough to deter it, however, as it continued to howl and bellow, making threatening moves towards Bellatrix. Hermione could see that the beast was trying to separate the two witches so that it could rush towards her and carry her off to its lair for... for consumption.

Hermione didn't want to think about that.

Bellatrix, however, apparently noticed this too and made some effort to stand between the creature and Hermione at all times. Frustrated enough, the creature let out another bellow and charged for a second time. The cantrip was cast again, this time appearing in front of the beast's legs, confusing it enough for Bellatrix to strike at one of its legs. The creature let out a pathetic whine and retreated quickly, but was not deterred enough to give up its prey just yet.

"Come on then, wittle diddums!" Bellatrix mocked the creature. "Aunty Bella has a nice, pointy surprise for you."

Hermione let out a whimper as her towel was now soaked red. She was losing so much blood she was starting to feel cold. This was different from the cold from the wind and the rain: she started to feel cold _inside_. This could not be a good sign. No, not by far.

Again, the beast charged Bellatrix. This time, the dark witch had more in store than a simple cantrip: she held out the flat of her hand and whispered arcane words. The beast slammed into an invisible wall right in front of Bellatrix and, before it could recover, she treated it with a vicious slash right across the side of its snout. It bellowed as the entire side of its head was bathed in blow and one of its yellow eyes no longer shone its light. The creature yipped, turned around and ran as fast as its legs could carry it.

Whatever happened next, at least Hermione could be certain of the fact that she wouldn't be carried off to be eaten. Small, but wondrous mercy.

The dark witch was upon her, tossing the sword tip-first into the soil as she knelt beside her. Fury was in her eyes as she regarded Hermione's state of being. "Don't you dare die!" hissed in anger. "I don't give you permission to die! Not while I still need you!"

"Believe me," said Hermione, startled at just how weak she sounded. "I don't plan to. Help... help me get pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding..."

"Try to keep some of that muddy blood of yours inside your body, mudblood!" Bellatrix snarled at her. "Don't even think about dying! If you die, I'll kill you myself and send your soul screaming into the afterlife!"

Hermione cried out in pain as Bellatrix pressed down into the wounds a little too hard.

"Oh, god it hurts," Hermione felt hot tears run over her cheeks. "It hurts so much!"

"IDIOT!" Bellatrix hissed. "Fool! If that were me instead of you back there, I would have let you get gored."

"I'm not _you!"_ Hermione spat in anger. So much for gratitude for saving her life. Of course, in her twisted mind, the dark witch had probably expected her to give up her life in service of her 'betters'.

"Clearly," Bellatrix returned, her expression still one of fury. The dark witch studied the young witch for a moment, then got up and moved away from her. With disbelief and mounting anger, Hermione watched her as she went for the fallen rucksack and picked up both it and one of their canteens. After one final look, the dark witch darted off into the curtain of rain.

"Bellatrix?" Hermione called after her. "BELLA!"

Gone.

She was leaving.

Hot tears rolled over her cheeks as despair began to set in. Pain, anger and sadness mixed as she sat with her back against the tree, being pelted by rain and wind while slowly but surely bleeding out. This was it.

Bellatrix had left her here to die.

It wasn't fair. There was so much she still wanted to do with her life. Travel. Fall in love. There were so many things left to learn, so many books to read, so many people to meet. Her parents: she would never be able to restore their memories. She would die alone and unmourned.

"Fuck you, Bellatrix," Hermione cried softly. "Fuck you, Hogwarts. Fuck you, wizarding world. Fuck you, Ron. Fuck you, Harry. Fuck everything!"

The dying girl thought back to the older Bellatrix, who had told her that she would fall in love. In love... with the dark witch who had now abandoned her. Laughable. "Fuck you too, wherever you are."

Hermione let her head fall sideways. She was getting tired now. Cold and tired. She knew this was bad. She knew that, if she were to fall asleep, she would never wake up again. But after today, perhaps that would be a blessed relief. Hermione tried to fight it, to hang on a little longer, but her arm slid from the towels covering the wounds and her eyelids fluttered shut while she faded in and out of consciousness.

She felt a hand on the back of her head and, when she opened her eyes, saw the dark witch once again kneeling over her. "Here," she said, putting a canteen to her lips. "Drink."

Hermione felt the soothing liquid slide down her throat and felt instant relief from the terrible, terrible pain. She still felt tired and cold from the loss of blood, of course, but at least the pain was mostly numbed.

"Mix of Blisterwort and Asphodel," said Bellatrix and yanked the towel from Hermione's belly without warning, causing the young witch to hiss as it also ripped caked blood from the wounds. Bellatrix took the canteen away, and poured the contents onto the wound. More relief. Less pain. There was an odd sensation as the wounds sizzled close, leaving only discolored indentations of skin and staving off any potential infections.

"There, there muddy," Bellatrix drawled and patted against her cheek. "You'll have some nice scars to brag about."

"You've mixed... a rudimentary healing potion?" Hermione whispered. "But... you have no wand."

Her clothes soaked, her hair now matted to her skin, Bellatrix smiled at her. It was an actual smile, not a sneer or a mocking snort, but an actual warm smile, laced with only a small hint of smugness.

"Don't underestimate me, little mudpet," Bellatrix winked at her. "You're not the only one with survival skills. Mine are just more... magically inclined."

' _I'm not going to die_ ,' Hermione realized and couldn't be happier about it. Certainly, she was still trapped in the middle of nowhere with a deranged cruel witch by her side, but things were looking up. Besides, right now that deranged cruel witch wasn't looking as deranged or cruel as she had a moment ago.

* * *

While the use of the healing potion meant she was out of danger, it did not mean she was anywhere near a full recovery. The healing potion didn't replenish the blood she had lost, nor did it help her recover her strength.

She was cold. She was tired. And she was still in a lot of pain.

Hermione tried to continue on. She knew how important it was for both of them to get to civilization, especially now, but she simply couldn't. Weak and tired to the point of collapse, it was obvious that the rest of the day was lost. Thankfully, however, it had stopped raining, so that was a small mercy at least.

Propped up against a tree, Hermione had covered herself with a blanket to try to warm herself somewhat while Bellatrix struggled with the tent. The canvas surrounded her as she sat in on her knees trying to place the metal rods to pitch the tent properly, but was quickly overcome with frustration as she was apparently unable to find her way. Letting out a few vile curses, she crawled deeper into the canvas with another rod in hand but wasn't able to find the ring to hook it into. Hermione heard a baleful shriek as she tried to raise the canvas anyway, only for the tent to completely collapse on top of her.

All that remained of Bellatrix was a lump inside a large piece of canvas, crawling, scratching, shouting and punching at it to try to find the exit. When she finally did, her head popped up from the canvas, but the rest of her body was still mostly trapped in the tent she had rolled around herself. The best way she could describe it was as if Bellatrix was a butterfly trying to escape from a tight canvas pupae.

Hermione just couldn't help herself. Even though it hurt to do so, her body started to shake with a soft and gentle laughter.

At first Bellatrix was confused, then fury set in. But as quickly as it came, the fury made way for a smile. Then a giggle. Then laughter. The two witches laughed together. At their predicament. At each other. And at themselves.

Hermione wiped away a tear. It felt good to lighten the mood, even if her fit of laughter hadn't exactly done wonders for her smarting abdomen.

"Well," said Bellatrix. "Since this tent refuses to obey her betters, why don't you talk me through this, mudpet?"

"Her?"

"Oh, trust me," Bellatrix said. "This tent is definitely a very obstinate old lady."

"Very well," said Hermione, her voice still weak. "First, you have to lay out the tent. You can't pitch it when it's a lump. Make sure the underside is laid out where you want the tent to be."

"Like this?" Bellatrix asked after folding out the tent and laying it out on the ground.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "Make sure the doorflap is facing towards you. Now, pick up one of those shorter rods and slip it through the rings on the top."

"Like so?" said Bellatrix.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Now do the same with the other two rods and connect them at the base with the connector pieces. That'll be the roof of the tent."

Bellatrix followed Hermione's instructions until she was ready for the next step. "Alright. Now what?"

"Take one of the longer rods and plant it down through one of the bottom rings. Then connect the top of that rod to the frame you've just built. Make sure it's the right corner, though."

A few moments later Bellatrix found herself staring at a partially pitched tent.

"Okay," said Hermione, her voice ragged and tired. "Now it's time to hammer in the tentpegs. See that loop in the corner of the canvas? Pull that out as far as it goes, don't be afraid to give it a good hard yank. Then use the mallet to hammer it in the ground. Don't hammer it all the way in, though, or we'll have trouble getting it out tomorrow."

A few hammerings later, Bellatrix looked quite proud of herself as she regarded the pitched tent. Right now, however, Hermione wanted nothing more than to just lie down and sleep. After taking a large sip of water from the canteen, she stumbled into the tent and prepared her sleeping bag. Looking down at her clothes, she could only conclude that she looked like a murder victim: her shirt was slashed and all of her clothes were soaked with now dried blood. Thankfully, her coat was mostly intact and unstained, it having been open at the time when the wyvern attacked.

After removing her clothes and lying down in the sleeping bag, she felt herself still shivering from that horrible cold inside of her. To her surprise, Bellatrix wordlessly slipped inside the bag with her after opening the back of her dress and pressed against her back to give Hermione relief from the cold and paying her back for when Hermione had done the same for her a few days ago.

So. Perhaps Bellatrix Lestrange had a heart after all.

* * *

For the year she had been in this time-line, Bellatrix had done many covert missions ranging from simple things like making sure certain items were in certain places for certain people to find, to vigilante missions where she either thwarted or assassinated prominent Death Eaters. All no match for her considerable skills. But, perhaps, this would be one of the most difficult tasks... perhaps even more difficult than all of them combined. In fact, she had been dreading this moment for months. Even though she already knew what the outcome would be, it was still hard.

She'd found herself standing on the doorstep of a lovely little semi-detached home in what looked to be a good neighborhood. It was odd, really: after all the lurking about sneaking into places ringing a doorbell made her feel more than a little exposed. She supposed the black cloak and the mask didn't really help her blend into this muggle neighborhood even if it was late in the evening.

Earlier, a muggle man walking his dog had given her an odd look. Really, it was as if he'd never seen a plague-doctor's mask before. Muggles were such silly, silly creatures.

In front of her loomed the front door of the Tonks household, her finger hovering over the doorbell.

Dorset. Really?! Andromeda moved to fucking _Dorset?_ That's about as Southern as Southern could be. She supposed seaside Weymouth was nice enough, but still... wasn't Manchester good enough for her sister anymore? Their particular branch of the Blacks had been proud Northerners for generations. Certainly, Bellatrix might have lost her accent after Hogwarts, but that didn't change the fact that she was a proud Northerner. Andie in Dorset, Cissy in Wiltshire... it was if she couldn't recognize her own family anymore.

Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. "Stop stalling, Bella," she told herself and pressed the doorbell.

It didn't take long before she saw a shadow approach from behind the tinted glass in the doorframe. The door was opened and there stood Andie. Once they'd been told that they were the spitting image of each other. To be honest, Bellatrix didn't really see it. They had different hair types, different jawlines, different cheekbones. Maybe it was the piercing dark eyes they both had, as it tended to be the first thing people looked at. Still, she couldn't deny that Andie looked good... happy even, if a little startled.

No doubt she was surprised to see a person dressed in a black robe and a beak-shaped plague-doctor's mask on her doorstep.

"Yes?" Andromeda asked warily. "May I help you at all?"

Bellatrix said nothing, but pushed past Andromeda and headed straight for the living room.

"Uhm, excuse me," Andie spoke as she rushed back in after her.

"Mum, who is it?" sounded from the living room, and as soon as she entered, she came face to face with her niece. Nymphadora Tonks was literally thick with child, her belly swollen to a point that she would have trouble getting up from that soft sofa she was sitting on. "Oh, my!" gasped Nymphadora. "You're Batman!"

Batman?

Bellatrix cocked her head sideways, which undoubtedly looked very odd with a beaked mask on her face.

And so Bellatrix found herself sitting on the second sofa in the living room of a very well-maintained English household. A large fireplace where a cozy fire burned, floral wallpaper and old well-loved furniture. Some muggle devices including a television set... a thing she had fought with Hermione over because she didn't want one in her house at first until she'd discovered the TV's YouTube app where she could find an endless source of laughter courtesy of stupid muggles at her fingertips. Of course, this particular model was a lot older and smaller.

Though Andie was still suspicious, her niece was propped up and was absolutely gushing. "Those three Death Eaters at Montrose," she grinned. "That was you, wasn't it? Hah, I heard from Moody that the one we captures has given us so much useful intel, it's not even funny!"

"Yes," Bellatrix replied, disguising her voice a little because even though the mask would muffle it, she was certain Andie would recognize it.

"I knew it!" said Nymphadora. "What about the thwarted attack on the Tower Bridge a few months back? Was that you too?"

"It was quite comical to see Mulciber and MacNair tumbling down into the Thames," Bellatrix replied. "Apparently, Mulciber can't swim. Pity they both apparated away before I had the chance to finish them off."

"Oh, shame old Mad-Eye just left," Nymphadora said, as apparently the old auror checked in with his protegee regularly. "He would have loved to meet you. Finally someone who hates Death Eaters as much as he does! So... tell me," she bent forward slightly and, with a belly that large, Bellatrix worried that she might tip forward and fall off the sofa. "What was it like to humiliate that bitch Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Nymphadora..." Andie whispered. Either for the use of language or to remind her that her name was not to be spoken in their household.

Bellatrix thought for a moment. "Very gratifying," she said, giving her honest answer.

"Thanks, you know?" Dora looked somewhat embarrassed for a moment, apparently not used to giving out gratitude. "For saving my dad from her. I don't think he would have survived if you hadn't interfered."

Andie, for her part, smiled warmly as well, but she could see in her eyes that she still didn't quite trust her. Fair enough... she was the woman sat in her house while wearing a cloak and plague-doctor's mask, after all. Andie wouldn't be very Slytherin if that was hunky-dory to her.

A loud whistle made Andie go back to the kitchen and, a few moments later, she came back holding a tray with a teapot, cups and biscuits. "Alright," said Andie. "Why don't you take your mask off so you can drink your tea?"

"Mum!" Nymphadora let out an embarrassed hiss. "She's like Batman! And Batman never takes off his cowl either."

"Then how's she going to drink her brew?" Andie pressed. "Seriously, why are you here? There are no Death Eaters here."

"I know why!" grinned Nymphadora. "You've finally come to join the Order! With more people like you, we'll finally be able to kick the Death Eaters right into the North Sea."

"Something like that," replied Bellatrix. "I have a muggle-born wife. And two lovely children. I would do anything to protect them. I would do anything to prevent the future the Dark Lord has in store for them and all of us."

"Aren't we all fighting for our loved ones, in one way or another?" Andie smiled. "Take off your mask, please. You are among friends. Let me see the face of the woman who saved my husband."

"Tell me," Nymphadora raved. "How do you always know where the Death Eaters are going to strike? You must be driving You-Know-Who absolutely bonkers. He'd be ripping his own hair out if he had any!"

"Because where I'm from, all of this has already happened," said Bellatrix. "I'm merely making sure history runs its course."

Andie narrowed her eyes now. "Who are you? Are..."

She heard Nymphadora gasp when Bellatrix moved to undo her hood and slowly started to remove her mask.

The mask slipped out of her hand.

As did the tray Andie was holding.

The tea service clattered to the ground while she folded her hands over her mouth while a flabbergasted Nymphadora's mouth moved like a fish on dry land. Her niece recovered quickly and reached for her wand, conveniently located on the table in front of her. Bellatrix beat her to the punch and snatched it up before she had the chance. Both Andie and Nymphadora looked at her warily before Bellatrix flipped the wand in her hand and offered the hilt to her niece.

Her niece carefully took it and held it tightly, obviously unsure of what to make of this gesture of faith.

"Yes," replied Bellatrix. "It's indeed me. Bellatrix Black. Not Lestrange. Black. Though Lestrange was still my last name before I was widowed about twenty years ago."

Nymphadora, her mood shifted, glared at her as she clutched her wand. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you right here and right now."

"I saved your father," Bellatrix spoke softly.

"Bullshit!" replied her niece. "Dad saw you fighting Bellatrix. You. Her. Uh... fuck it! Point being, how can you be in two places at once?!"

"When there are two of us in the same time-line," Bellatrix pressed. "Notice how I look a little older? You can tell by the hair."

The usual arguments followed. Polyjuice, impostors, how she had killed this 'Batman' and taken his place, trickery, illusions. Merlin, Antonin had been a lot easier to convince. It's a pity she had left her time-turner with Hermione, but the evidence came when she handed the photograph of her family to Andie, who looked at it intently.

"Dora," she asked, still looking at the photograph. "I need a moment alone with my sister."

"Mum," Dora pressed. "That's not wise! In fact, it's the opposite of wise!"

"I can handle Bellatrix, sweetie. I've known her for much longer than you have," said Andromeda. "We'll be just in the dining room over here."

Bellatrix followed her sister into the dining room and watched her as she closed the sliding door behind her. Oh, Andromeda looked calm enough, that's for sure, but it was clear that deep inside she was absolutely seething.

Andie, poor sweet Andie, paced back and forth in her own dining room. A torrent of emotion etched on her face as the seething anger inside of her was starting to come to the surface. Bellatrix stood there, simply watching her for a moment. Every time Andie turned to Bellatrix and was about to say something, she clamped shut and started pacing again.

"Andie..." Bellatrix spoke softly.

"No, no," Andie held up her hand. "Don't speak! You don't have the right!"

"Andie," Bellatrix pressed. "Let it all out."

Her little sister looked up at her for a moment. And then the floodgates were opened. "How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?! You come to my front door as if nothing ever happened! Do you realize how many tears I've shed over you? Do you even care?"

Her hands balled into fists briefly, her teeth grit. Andie bristled. "You know what? I don't even want to know the answer to that. But I want you to know one thing. I have never betrayed you. You have betrayed _me_!"

"Andie..."

"SHUT UP!" Andromeda shrieked. "You disgusting hypocrite! All your talk and bluster about making your own choices, doing things your own way. And when I actually do make a choice, you drop me out of your life as if I was a dirty rag!"

In her own time-line, she and her sister had reconnected, reforged their bond... but this? Despite knowing what would happen in the future, this confrontation was beyond hard.

"Bella, I loved you! I trusted you!" Andie let her tears flow. "And you dropped me like a stone when I needed you the most! You said you would always look out for us! You lied that nothing would ever overcome our bond of sisterhood! Bella, you are a coward! You were nothing but a scared little girl who ran to mother's skirt when things got difficult for you!"

"I..." Bellatrix felt hot tears start to run over her own cheeks now. Truth was, indeed, a most painful thing. "You're not wrong..."

"I begged you to stop! I begged you to come back to us!" Andie shouted angrily. "BUT YOU CHOSE THAT MONSTER OVER YOUR OWN BLOOD!"

"Andie..."

"SHUT UP!" Andromeda shouted. "And you come here with this bonkers story about time travel and 'setting things right' and think that'll just be the end of everything? I ought to throw you out of my house, turn you over to the Order and have them mine your brain for information! I SHOULD BETRAY YOU LIKE YOU'VE BETRAYED ME!"

Before Bellatrix could respond, Andie let out a strangled cry and flew into her arms, taking her in an embrace so tight it could crush her ribs. "Damn you... damn you..." Andie whispered, the two women sobbing in equal measure as they held on to each other. "Thank you for saving Ted. Thank you so much..."

"Ted and I are going to get along fine," said Bellatrix after releasing her, but holding on to her hands. "Tell you one thing, though."

"What?"

"He's still a Southern wanker."

That made Andromeda laugh in spite of herself. "Northern cunt," she replied, smiling through her tears.

"I'm sorry, Andie," said Bellatrix. "I'm sorry for everything. I don't say that often enough."

Andie merely nodded in something Bellatrix hoped was acceptance.

"My younger self," said Bellatrix as the two sisters hugged again. "Give her a chance. It'll be difficult, I know. I was still so... unstable at this point in my life. Know that things will get better. Time does heal wounds."

The sliding door slid open and in stepped Nymphadora. Bellatrix surmised that the two of them must have made for quite a sight: crying and holding each other as lost siblings tended to. "Mum?" Dora asked carefully.

"I'm fine dear," Andie wiped away her tears with a handkerchief she had fished from her pocket.

"So, auntie dearest," said Nymphadora. "You're telling me you've left you-know-who's side, abandoned your pure-blood ideals and started a family with a muggle-born?"

"Well, Nymphadora…"

"Tonks…"

" _Nymphadora_ ," Bellatrix replied, drawing the name out with a roll of the tongue and causing her niece to cringe slightly. "Yes. I'm telling you exactly that."

"Hm," spoke her niece. "Must be some impressive bloke."

"Lady," Bellatrix corrected. Meanwhile, Andie was taking another look at the family photograph from the future.

Nymphadora gave the briefest of nods. "Since you're sharing details about the future we are in no way supposed to know yet, I might as well ask. Is she anyone I know?"

"Hermione."

Proving that her niece was, impossibly, even more obnoxious than her older self in her own time-line, her face twisted into a gale of unbridled laughter. Bellatrix watched calmly, waiting for her niece to stop slapping her knees, stop throwing her head back and stop leaning against the doorframe to keep herself upright. She was still slightly giggling when she managed to speak her next words. "Yeah, you've definitely gotten a sense of humor. But no, really, who is it?"

Bellatrix bent forward, grinning slightly when she rolled her tongue to speak the name of her wife. "Her… Mi… Oh… Nee…"

There was no laughter this time. Simply abject surprise. "Y-you're serious?" Nymphadora stated lamely.

Bellatrix nodded. Andie looked up from the photograph. "Indeed, I didn't remember her name at first, but now I do. One of Harry's friends, no? The brown-haired girl who was so polite."

"Whoa… I thought she liked Ron."

"Not quite it seems," said Andie and handed her daughter the Christmas photograph to look at.

At first, her niece seemed to be quite stunned, but then a brief smile followed before she handed the picture back to her. "Your daughter looks a lot like you."

"She does," said Bellatrix. "Do you still have doubts?"

"Oh, plenty," admitted Nymphadora. "But I can see why you'd want to go through these lengths to safeguard the future. I just hope nobody will end up having to pay a steep price for it. You never did answer the question, though. Why _are_ you here?"

"Things will be coming to a head in the coming weeks," said Bellatrix. "We'll be seeing the end of this war soon. I need to blacken the Dark Lord's eyes a bit more before that happens and I want you to help."

"Me?" Nymphadora frowned before pointing at her belly. "I'm a bit indisposed at the moment, if you can't tell."

"I'll come find you next week," said Bellatrix. "And then you can help me become a widow. Don't tell me you don't like the sound of that."

"I do!" said Nymphadora. "But Teddy won't have been born yet by then. It's supposed to be another two weeks before he'll be born."

Bellatrix took this moment to fish a pocket watch from her cloak and folded it open. "You have about an hour. I suggest you start heading towards St. Mungo's right about now."

"What are you talking about?" Nymphadora laughed. "Like I said, it'll take another two weeks before..."

She fell silent and looked down. Both Bellatrix and Andie followed her gaze and saw a patch of wetness spread through her leggings: her water had broken. "Oh..." Nymphadora bit her lip. "Well, shit..."

Instantly, Andie was fussing over her and set her down on a chair. Nymphadora started breathing heavily, probably from the nerves. Still, she could see in her face that the first contraction had just come. "Oh shit. Oh shitshitshit! Mum, this kid is coming! Oh shit!"

Bellatrix strolled over to the fireplace, grabbed a bag of floo powder and set it down on the table next to Andie. By now, her sister's full attention was on her daughter and her niece's full attention was on the impending birth of her son. She figured this was the best point to quietly make her exit, so she collected her mask and slipped out the front door. Bellatrix turned back to look at the house one more time: she'd be back here in about a week's time when Nymphadora had regained some of her energy.

"Your reckoning is coming, _Dark Lord._ And her name is Bellatrix Black." She chuckled and apparated away.


	7. Self-control

Hermione suppressed a yawn when her eyes fluttered open. She took a few deep breaths and certainly felt a lot less tired and a lot less cold. The young witch slowly started to sit up, grabbing hold of her abdomen and hissing in pain when her stiff muscles refused to cooperate at first. The pain still coming from the now closed wounds was annoying, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the previous day.

The pain also let her know that she was still very much alive. She wasn't exactly in tip-top shape, but considering the state she'd been in yesterday it was a definite improvement. Hermione felt she'd be able to cross some distance today.

Bellatrix was no longer in her sleeping bag, but she heard some noises outside of the tent and something was smelling really nice. After whipping her protesting body into shape, Hermione opened the door flap and stepped outside to find Bellatrix sitting at a campfire which she had apparently started. Above the campfire was a cooking pot filled with rabbit stew.

"Good morning, muddy," Bellatrix said. "Feeling less punctured today?"

"Considerably," said Hermione. "Hmm, that smells nice."

"Tastes nice too," replied Bellatrix and offered a wooden ladle with a bit of stew for Hermione to taste. She did so and had to admit to being impressed.

"I didn't know you could make rabbit stew," said Hermione.

"I learn quickly and I've watched you do it plenty of times," said Bellatrix. "And Blacks excel at everything, muddy. You should know that by now."

Hermione's eye caught two bloody heaps a bit away from the camp and saw that they were two partially skinned rabbits. Apparently, Bellatrix had failed to skin the bunnies and roughly threw them out of the camp in frustration. Bellatrix followed her gaze and shrugged. "Those rabbits were inferior. Too small. The third one gave up its fur much easier."

Hermione smiled. "I'll see if I can salvage something from them," she said. "It'd be a shame to waste good food."

"If you must, muddy," replied Bellatrix with a sigh.

Things were looking up. The sun was shining and the weather seemed to have made a turn for the better. Though the ground might still be a bit soggy and treacherous as a result, the sun would help to keep warm a little during the trip.

"We'll make an outdoorswoman out of you yet, Bellatrix," Hermione smiled at her.

Bellatrix made a face. "Muddy, I can sincerely say that when we are finally out of this hellhole, I will never go outside ever again. And I will certainly never have anything to do with Cairngorms for the rest of my entire life! Azkaban is better than this place!"

"Is it really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Bellatrix stopped stirring the pot for a moment. "No. No, it's not."

"What's it like?" Hermione asked. "Azkaban, I mean."

For a moment, Bellatrix's eyes shone dangerously. The dark witch searched Hermione's expression, looking for any form of mockery or pity, but found none. Bellatrix' own expression hardened, looking down into the fire before popping a piece of rabbit in her mouth and chewing.

"It's hell..." she whispered softly. "Take it from me, muddy. You don't want to end up there. Ever."

"I've heard from Harry," said Hermione. "Dumbledore showed him memories of your trials. He saw how you triumphantly sat on the chair as if it were a throne."

Bellatrix snorted. "The bravado of a foolish woman who didn't know any better," Bellatrix replied. "That bravado died quickly enough when I finally got there. It is a cold, dank, wet place, muddy. Every moment there feels like dying."

Dementors. She was talking about the dementors.

"How did you survive?" Hermione asked, with genuine interest.

"One day at a time," replied Bellatrix. "I was determined not to let the dementors win. I took the best of myself and hid it deep within my mind, behind the strongest of mental barriers. That place will chew you up and spit you out if you let it. Why do you think the Death Eaters who survived that place for years are some of the most powerful, nastiest and ruthless wizards alive, hm? It's because Azkaban has taught them... and me... that you have to be that way to even make it through the first year!"

Truth be told, Hermione didn't want to imagine what it would be like to be exposed to dementors for so long a time and the Ministry had allowed it for years on end, purely because it was... cheaper. Hermione couldn't help but admire Bellatrix's strength, especially since she wasn't convinced she could survive that place herself.

"I was never been happier than when I left that place," Bellatrix replied. "The breakout gave me my final victory over the dementors. But I'll never go back, muddy. I'll _die_ before I go back."

The intensity in her eyes told Hermione that she very much meant it. Hermione nodded. True, they were enemies. True, Bellatrix had done horrible things. But Azkaban was not a place she would wish to inflict upon anyone. To think the Ministry put people who flew their brooms in a drunken state in the same place they put Death Eaters...

"Whatever happens," said Hermione. "Win or lose, I hope you'll never have to."

Something unexpected happened. A smile. A warm, genuine smile. Aimed at her. It reminded her of the older Bella. Nicer. More stable. Oddly enough, it no longer felt as if they were worlds apart. Both were considered powerful, talented witches, prodigies of their respective ages.

Were they really destined to fall in love?

"Aren't you hungry?" Bellatrix asked and motioned towards Hermione's bowl of rabbit stew.

"Hm," said Hermione after taking a bite. "It's good."

"Of course, it is," Bellatrix replied, but Hermione could swear that the dark witch seemed rather pleased with herself.

A few moments later, the witches broke camp and continued on their way. The plan was to follow the fence for now in order to find a way around it. After the attack, Bellatrix theorized that this was actually some sort of holding pen to separate the more dangerous creatures from the rest of the sanctuary. Likely that wyvern they encountered was one of the original inhabitants of the sanctuary and had been forgotten when the rest of the magical creatures were evacuated. This long lived specimen had escaped when the fence had been damaged and had been hunting on the terrain of the sanctuary. It made Hermione nervous to think that it could still be around, but Bellatrix assured her it had likely gone off to search for easier prey now that it had lost an eye. Hermione could only hope.

Hermione was a little more easily winded than before, still not having fully recovered from the earlier assault. She was short of breath and her side started to hurt from the exertion. Thankfully, Bellatrix was there to encourage her... and not by prodding her along or yanking her hair, but rather by allowing her to take plenty of rest-breaks and at one point even supporting her as they walked.

But it was when they came across the corner of the fence they were following that they found something absolutely wondrous. Hermione had to look twice and then still thought that her eyes were deceiving her.

"T-tell me that's real," Hermione whispered. "Tell me that I'm not delirious."

"You're not delirious," added Bellatrix. "I see it too."

It was a path.

An honest to goodness path!

Quickly, Hermione took out the map and compass and checked the direction. "Oh my god," she whispered, closing her eyes to let the relief wash over her. "It's leading in the direction of the visitor's center. We're still a ways out, but we'll be on even ground. No more hilly terrain, no more scrambles."

"No more blisters on my feet," Bellatrix replied.

The two witches shared a smile. A genuine smile.

They were almost out. It was only a matter of time now. The two witches set to follow the path as it meandered through hills and fields. This seemed to be a part of the sanctuary where visitors could explore and interact with the creatures. Like many muggle Britons, wizards and witches were avid walkers, it seemed. Or at least they used to be when the sanctuary was open to the public. They passed some signs, many of them rotting away and illegible, but some could still be read. Some signs offered directions, of which both witches took note, while others gave some description of magical creatures which could be found in the local area. They passed another pen, consisting mostly of rusted fence and a few collapsed hutches; apparently, it had been a petting zoo for children.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she moved through the ruins of this sanctuary: it had been beautiful and tranquil once. And it could be again. Even if Bellatrix and Hermione would never fall in love, Hermione could see herself living here and rebuilding the sanctuary. Looking at Bellatrix, she wondered if the dark witch was thinking the same thing.

They walked until Hermione could walk no longer and felt as if she could collapse from exhaustion. By now, they had made excellent time and were much closer to the visitor's center and the Scottish highlands beyond the gate. It was decided that they would make camp for today and finish their journey tomorrow. Hermione and Bellatrix pitched the tent together and, since it was barely dark, decided to build a campfire to warm themselves and relax by.

"Hm," said Bellatrix as she studied their surroundings. "We are in a garden. Or rather, what's left of it."

Hermione looked and quickly saw that Bellatrix was right. Overgrown as it was, she could still see the contours of the landscaping. The remains of a trellis lay torn and broken on the ground while a fountain was barely visible underneath all the overgrowth. "Oh, you're right," said Hermione. "This place was beautiful once and teeming with life. It would be a nice thought to restore it."

Bellatrix snorted. "Don't get any ideas, muddy. No matter what that imposter says, we are not marrying and rebuilding this place."

"I mean regardless of us supposedly falling in love," said Hermione. "It'd just be nice to see this place restored to its former glory. A beautiful garden filled with life to be enjoyed by visitors and magical creatures alike, no matter who does the restoring. Don't tell me it wouldn't be nice."

"Hm, you're a romantic, muddy," Bellatrix chuckled. "I admit, this place has seen better days. Though I suggest we hunt down the wyvern first before we allow families to bring their children. Hm, with that trellis and fountain... this place reminds me a lot of the garden where my wedding was held. My father spared no expense. I suppose the catering did a good job, other than that it was the most miserable day of my life..."

Bellatrix adopted a rather grim look. "I was promised to him before I'd even left the womb and he was only a few months old," Bellatrix spoke bitterly. "My parents happily traded their unborn eldest daughter for the sake of some family alliance."

"God," Hermione scrunched up her face in disgust.

"Don't judge us too harshly, muddy," Bellatrix crossed her arms. "This is how pure-blood paragon families like mine have done things for generations. And it has always done the job. But still... an arranged marriage is not what I'd have chosen. Not to a man in any case."

Hermione looked her in the eye. Could she mean?

But Bellatrix gave her answer before Hermione had a chance to ask the question. "I prefer the company of women," spoke Bellatrix, a slight grin crossing her features. "Does that shock you, little mudblood?"

Hermione shook her head. "No," she replied. "There's nothing wrong with that."

The answer obviously pleased Bellatrix. "Of course I voiced my concern to my parents. Their answer was the same as any pure-blood parent would give to their child who was headed into a loveless marriage: just get a mistress."

"Did you?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix grinned and nodded. "I did have a lover. A fellow Death Eater," said Bellatrix. "Her name was Kezia Asquith. Raven-hair, blue eyes, fiery temper. Oh, she was a Scouser and I would always make fun of her accent. We loved each other, muddy. Very much. After successful missions, the Dark Lord would often grant his followers boons and we were planning to ask him to annul both our marriages so we could..."

Bellatrix fell silent for a moment, casting her eyes downward and stared into the fire for a bit. "Well... it doesn't matter. We never had the chance."

"What happened?" Hermione asked carefully.

Bellatrix let out a sigh. "Kezia was from a minor pure-blood house, so eager to prove herself. She took on more dangerous missions for the Dark Lord both to gain status and to gain favour for her... _our_ boon. She went on a mission one day and just... never came back."

Hermione met her eyes briefly and saw the sadness there. It still stung her, that much Hermione could see. It was easy to think of the enemy as soulless monsters, but they were people as any other with hopes, dreams and loved ones. The Order only spoke of their own losses and, while valid, it was easy to forget that both sides had lost loved ones.

"I later learned that the aurors responsible for her death were the Longbottoms," Bellatrix whispered, her expression contorting into a wicked grin. "They paid for it. I made sure of that."

Part of Hermione wanted to tell Bellatrix that to end the cycle of hatred, at least someone had to let it go. But seeing the light flicker in Bellatrix's eyes convinced her this might be a dangerous thing to say to her: she might be calm now, but she wouldn't put it past Bellatrix to fly off the handle at a moment's notice.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied.

Bellatrix shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"Perhaps we should go to sleep," said Hermione. "Shall we leave the fire burning again?"

"We should," replied Bellatrix as she got up. "Wyverns don't like fire."

After moving the pack into the tent as they went inside and started to prepare their bedrolls for the night, Hermione was shocked to suddenly hear Bellatrix purr into her ear. The young witch was startled by the dark witch's sudden closeness and for a moment completely froze up. "What about you, hm?" Bellatrix said. "I've shared. Now tell me something about your love life, muddy. T'is only fair, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione bit her lip: that was as private as private could get and Hermione wasn't really comfortable with sharing that information with Bellatrix. At the same time, the dark witch was looking at her expectantly and from her expression she was certain that she wouldn't take no for an answer. She let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh, come on," said Bellatrix. "You might be a mudblood, but you're still a pretty little thing. You must have had some suitors."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose," she started. "There was Viktor Krum. I went to the Yule Ball with him during the Triwizard Tournament. Dark hair, strong build. He was very nice. Viktor was a star Quidditch player and very famous, though you might not have heard of him considering you were... well, not around. He was just glad to find a girl who treat him like a normal human being. It didn't last very long... I think I was just too young for a proper relationship. Then there was Cormac McLaggen too. I guess he counts. Liked to talk about how his family was 'big in the Ministry'."

"Ugh," Bellatrix scrunched up her nose in response.

"Rude, obnoxious, could only talk about wanting to make the Quidditch team. Wasn't sure what I was thinking, really," Hermione shrugged. "And then, of course, there is Ron. Brave, strong, immature Ron."

"Potter's friend? The Weasel kid," Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, another Quidditch player?"

"Very much so, yes," Hermione smiled.

"Little muddy likes Quidditch players, it seems," said Bellatrix. "I'll have you know I was the Slytherin team's star chaser during my Hogwarts years."

Hermione frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," Bellatrix grinned. Oh, Hermione didn't like that grin. Not, she didn't like that grin at all. "Because you enjoy the company of women too."

That statement made her mouth drop open a little, her lips moving as she sputtered wordlessly before she finally managed to stammer out a strenuous "That's completely ridiculous!"

Bellatrix let out a brief cackle. "Oh, I don't think so, muddy. It takes one to spot one, you see? Come now, don't bother denying it. I see the way you look at me even if you don't realize it yourself."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No. It's not true. I'm not into girls! I like Ron!"

"Oh?" purred Bellatrix and Hermione almost recoiled when a taloned hand reached out and touched her hair. With a gentle softness which Hermione thought the dark witch incapable of, she stroked her hair. Up and down. Up and down. In fact, it reminded her of the loving way the older Bellatrix had stroked her hair. It felt... it felt so _nice_. Hermione swallowed hard.

"You don't like this?" Bellatrix smirked. Oh, that smirk.

"N-no," Hermione stammered. "S-stop. P-please stop."

"Oh, that sounds very indignant and convincing, muddy," Bellatrix chuckled mockingly. "Tell me you don't like this. I dare you."

Bellatrix laid a warm hand on her cheek, gently rubbing her skin with her thumb. "Have you ever been touched like this, muddy? Has your Viktor, Cormac or Ron ever made you feel this way? So soft. So sensuous? So... desired?"

The dark witch was playing some sort of sick game, Hermione was sure of it. But even if she knew this, why was her heart pounding in her chest? Why was her mouth going dry? Why could she barely think straight? Why were her loins on fire? Why was she trembling under Bellatrix's touch?

Hermione shivered when Bellatrix bent forward. She was so close, it was terrifying. She could smell her hair, feel her warmth as her face hovered so close to hers. The young witch let out a whimper when Bellatrix breathed in her ear. "You don't like this either? Because I think you like everything I'm doing to you right now. Oh, and I think you're going to love this, my little muddy."

Hermione trembled like a reed in the wind when Bellatrix bent ever closer towards her, grinning like a hungry cheshire cat.

' _Oh god. Oh god. She's going to... she's going to kiss me!'_

And when their lips finally touched? It was like magic. Soft. So impossibly soft. Hands slid over her sides, along her back. Her closeness, once so frightening, was now so intoxicating. To think that someone like Bellatrix, so cruel and wicked, could also be so gentle.

Part of her was screaming at her to stop. This was the enemy, a Death Eater, someone who hated muggle-borns for no other reason than being born to non-magic parents. And yet...

' _I like Ron!'_ she tried to tell herself. ' _I like Ron! I like Ron! I like... I... I... I like...'_

"Bella," Hermione gasped through laboured breaths between kisses.

"Shut up," Bellatrix hissed, playfully this time right before a low chuckle emerged from the back of her throat. It sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

Feeling a bit more daring, Hermione carefully reached out to touch Bellatrix and, to her delight, the dark witch let her wrap her arms around her waist, run her hands over her back and pull her against her. The dark witch cackled while their lips touched and took it to the next level. When Bellatrix parted her lips with her tongue... when their tongues touched, Hermione felt herself melting away. Her heart pounded in her chest when she felt her insides turn into jelly.

This was it.

This was her first kiss.

With Bellatrix Lestrange. In a tent. In the middle of nowhere.

And it was glorious.

Perhaps... perhaps it could be possible after all. Perhaps this Bellatrix _would_ turn into the older Bellatrix she had met, to change so completely and thoroughly by the power of love alone. Perhaps they _would_ start a family together later in life. The impossibility didn't seem so impossible anymore.

Bellatrix kissed her hungrily and savagely and Hermione found herself trembling. She felt Bellatrix's hand running through her hair, holding the back of her head in place as she intensified the kiss. God, she never ever wanted this moment to end. Just spend eternity here in this tent, under the stars and held in Bellatrix's arms while they kissed.

Hermione almost let out a mew in protest after the kiss was broken. Overflowing with feelings and a torrent of emotions, a happy Hermione opened her eyes and smiled warmly, expecting Bellatrix to do the same.

Boy, was she wrong.

There was no smile, there was no warmth in her expression or wistfulness in her gaze. Truth be told, Hermione didn't know what she was expecting... but she certainly didn't expect fearful wild eyes akin to that of a cornered animal.

"B-Bella?" Hermione gulped as the dark witch regarded her with a stricken look, as if Bellatrix was only now starting to realize just what she had done. Her breath quickened, fear and confusion taking further hold. The dark witch swallowed hard and then things got much worse.

Fear and confusion made way for unadulterated rage. Dark eyes shone dangerously as her breath quickened and her chest started to heave. The nails of the hand still on her arm started to dig into Hermione's skin.

"Y-you're hurting me," Hermione whispered lamely, thinking futilely that Bellatrix would be in any way daunted by her complaints. If anything, it made the dark witch angrier. The dark witch let out something which could only be described as a growl and did indeed release her... only to grab her by the hair and raise her other arm with the intention to deliver a powerful backhand.

"Please no!" Hermione yelled, herself confused from the sudden change, the emotions from the happy kiss mixing with fear and pain as she recoiled to avoid the incoming blow.

Bellatrix didn't hit her. Instead, she roughly shoved her to the ground and shot up to her feet. Bellatrix let out an ear-piercing shriek while she paced back and forth in the tiny tent, her hands running through her curly mane as if she was trying to figure out what to do after having just committed a crime of passion.

"Bella?" Hermione asked carefully.

"NOTHING!" Bellatrix shouted at her. "NOT A SINGLE WORD, FILTH! NOT. A. WORD!"

The dark witch stormed out of the tent, leaving a confused and hurt Hermione behind.

Bellatrix never returned to the tent that night. Hermione simply lay in her sleeping bag, trying to make sense of it all while she sometimes heard an anguished scream far in the distance. Eventually, uneasy sleep did claim her.

* * *

Bellatrix spent most her time in the muggle world. Ironic, really, for someone who had been a pure-blood paragon for the greater part of her life. Still, if a witch wanted to stay out of sight, it was the best place to go. Despite that, Bellatrix had spent the last year on the move, never staying longer than a few weeks at the same place, never using the floo network and always wearing a hood. She knew that, at the moment, she was one of the most recognizable witches in the UK to both friend and foe, and even in the muggle world there might be a witch or wizard around every corner. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she had little to worry about, that everything she was involved in had already happened from her perspective and nothing could go wrong in the predestination-paradox loop she was in. Still, she wasn't willing to take the risk. What if it wasn't a fully closed loop, after all? One tiny mistake could erase her future, her family, her happiness.

No, it was best to stay out of sight, have as little interaction with as few people as possible until she was certain her future was secured.

She found herself in Leeds, unlocking the door to the home she was staying in. Bellatrix was a lodger to Mrs. Hawthorne, a friendly old pensioner who had a tendency to fuss over her. Though that was somewhat annoying at times, she did respect her privacy and did not mind her irregular hours. Bellatrix's cover story was always the same: she played the role of a recent divorcee who wanted a short stay as a lodger while she sorted her life out. The story always seemed particularly effective with female landladies.

Bellatrix closed the door behind her and was almost immediately accosted by Mrs. Hawthorne. "Ah, there you are, dearie," she said as she emerged from the living room. "Another long day at work?"

"You could say that," replied Bellatrix. "I'll be going out again later."

"Well, your dinner is on the stove, dearie. I've kept it warm for you," spoke the nice old lady. "And I've added lots of pepper, just the way you like it best."

"Thank you," Bellatrix nodded. Even though they were almost the same age, being a witch with a wizarding lifespan meant Bellatrix could pass for a much younger woman. Still, Mrs. Hawthorne was only to happy to play the role of a doting mum to a point that Bellatrix often though that it was such a shame that Mrs. Hawthorne's own children paid her so few visits.

After fetching her dinner, a casserole of beef stew, she went up the stairs to the attic where her room was. The room was sparsely decorated: a bed, a table, a wardrobe and a desk at the wall, as well as several muggle landscape paintings which were so bland they blended into the wallpaper. Still, it would do. The first thing she did was to remove the cloak and mask from her bottomless carry-all bag and place it into the wardrobe, next to her broom. She watched it briefly. What had her niece called her? 'Batman'? Was that one of those superheroes from those silly Marvel films her son always wanted to drag them to the cinema for? Or was that from the other group of superheroes which was apparently completely different and her son was always quick to correct her whenever she mixed them up? All that came to mind was Rigel's pouty look whenever it was Lydia's turn to pick the film and always picked something animated and/or pink.

Bellatrix let out a sigh. She missed her family.

She sat at the table and ate her beef stew casserole in silence and propped up the photograph of her family against the salt shaker, reminding herself why she was doing this. She craned her head towards the pinboard where a large chart of dates, names and connected events hung, painstakingly put together by herself and Hermione, based on documented historical events mixed with the memories of friends, family and defectors alike. It had been revised, rechecked, rebalanced and revised again with Hermione's usual diligence and had proven to be 100% accurate so far.

Bellatrix had been traveling light for the most part. That list, the costume, the photograph and her broom were the only things she had brought with her from the future. Well, that and a sack full of galleons she had painstakingly made sure were all minted before 1998. Thankfully, there were places in Knockturn Alley which discretely exchanged galleons for muggle money, no questions asked. After that, she'd avoided as much contact with the wizarding world as possible.

Still, in between the assaults and the occasional assassination she had to perform according to the chart, there was an awful lot of downtime to burn through. Exercise and reading were her favorite ways to pass the time in hopes of keeping her mind occupied. Bellatrix had truly come to appreciate muggle cinema, which would undoubtedly please her film-loving son.

The dark witch left the empty casserole pot and stepped over to the steel rod in the middle of the room. Though it was originally meant to add some structural integrity to the roof she was sleeping under, it held her slight weight well and was perfectly suited for some pull-ups. She jumped up, grabbed the rod and found a steady rhythm hoisting herself up while allowing her thoughts to wander.

Right before she left for the past, she and Hermione had an argument about what films Rigel should be allowed to see: Hermione wanting to stick to the age restriction and Bellatrix advocating that Rigel was mature enough to handle films with darker subject matter. She knew for a fact that Rigel had been watching violent action and horror films over at her niece's house with Nymphadora and Teddy, something Hermione was quite flustered about. Bellatrix chuckled slightly: Hermione had always been the stricter parent.

A few more pull-ups later and she wondered how her younger self was doing. If memory served right, the wyvern attack had just happened and her younger self was full of doubt and confusion. From wondering why that 'slip of a mudblood' girl risked her life for her, then doing nice things for Hermione without really understanding why and trying to make sense of the feelings she was developing for her.

Merlin, she also remembered frantically looking for some blisterwort to make a potion: Hermione had been terribly injured, lost so much blood and bore the scars of her encounter with the wyvern to this very day. Or... the very day in 2020 when she had left to go back in time, that is.

Of course, the wyvern assault was only the start of their troubles. More difficult times were coming for them.

It was time to go out for now. She dropped down from the rod and went to fetch her coat. After saying her goodbyes to Mrs. Hawthorne for the evening, she made her way to the local Odeon theater to see what was on tap. Unfortunately, she found the pickings a bit slim. 'Lost in Space' looked particularly stupid, but she wasn't really in the mood to burn off brain-cells today. 'Paulie', about a silly bird with silly antics seemed like it was something her daughter would like, but she wasn't really in the mood for funny animal slapstick at the moment either. 'Two Girls and a Guy' just sounded like a bad porno. 'The Big Lebowski' was still running and even though she had seen it before, it seemed like a more enjoyable time than anything else playing at the moment. She paid for her ticket and took a seat in the back of a mostly empty cinema.

Of course, even though the cinema was mostly empty and they had a plethora of seats to choose from, a couple of chavs decided to plop down right in front of her. Of course they were taller and broader than her, were snacking loudly and talking obnoxiously when the film had already started. Had it been 2020, being blinded by the light of their bloody phones would no doubt also be part of the experience. Thankfully, those awful things were not as much an issue in this time period.

She cursed under her breath after stretching and craning her neck to be able to see around the chavs, but the only thing she could see was the back-end of the man's godawful mohawk. Time for action.

Bellatrix drew her wand and whispered the words of her spell just before pressing the tip of her wand into the back of the man's neck. He immediately sank into his chair like a sack of potatoes and before the woman could react, a wand had already been pressed to her neck as well. The two muggles slid down into their seat, spilling their food and drinks over the floor and themselves as they snored loudly. A silencing charm later and Bellatrix could sit back and relax as Jeffrey 'The Dude' Lebowski walked onto the screen.

Ah, it was good to be a witch.


	8. Self-absorbed

The moment Hermione left the tent the next morning, a dead rabbit hit her straight in the face.

"COOK!" demanded the source of the thrown rabbit, a certain dark witch now sitting at the embers of a dying fire. Judging from the bags under her eyes, Bellatrix hadn't gotten much sleep last night. As a matter of fact, neither had Hermione.

Bellatrix sat there in silence, glaring daggers at her while she inspected the fire. A little bit of deadwood would and kindling would get things going again just fine, but she'd have to be quick. Judging from the darkened sky, they'd be looking at foul weather soon. If either witch wanted to eat something today, she'd have to get the fire going and the stew cooked sooner rather than later.

Hermione looked at Bellatrix and memories of that wonderful kiss came flowing back to her. And now Bellatrix was just sitting there acting as if nothing had happened.

Cold. Distant.

Hateful.

"We should talk about... what happened yesterd-" Hermione started to say, though not really knowing what to expect.

Bellatrix shot her a look of pure disdain as she bent forward slightly."Nothing happened, muddy. I don't even know what you're talking about."

Hermione gave her a questioning look. "But..."

"It never happened!" Bellatrix hissed. "A pure-blood paragon like myself would never show affection to a lowly creature such as yourself. And once I get hold of my wand, I will obliviate us both. Only the two of us know. And then neither of us will. Antonin always told me that if nobody remembers an event, it is the same as if it never happened at all."

Hermione bristled. "I won't allow you to alter my mind! You can't just do that to someone!"

"Oh-hoh," Bellatrix's sneer turned into a sadistic smile. "I assure you, you'll have no choice in the matter. Remember that death is also a way to erase a memory, muddy. Which would you prefer, hm?"

Hermione threw up her hands. "Was it so bad? You enjoyed it as much as I did!" she threw back in the dark witch's face. Oh, she knew she should know better than to talk back to Bellatrix Lestrange, but confusion had made way for anger. Still, in the back of her mind, she was wondering why she was even arguing about this. It was obvious that the dark witch wanted to have nothing to do with it. Perhaps that kiss was simply nothing more than a sick game of hers. A twisted joke. To make her desire Bellatrix only to then throw her aside like a used handkerchief.

Well, she'd succeeded. Last night had been mostly lying awake in confusion, thinking about her future, her desires and questioning her sexuality. So yes, maybe she did like women, but so what? That didn't mean she'd have to fall for Bellatrix. There were plenty of lovely girls she could find a romantic interest in. Someone who _wouldn't_ treat her like dirt. Katie, for example. Or Luna even.

So why were her eyes getting watery just thinking about yesterday? With the fire now started, Hermione got to work skinning the rabbit while the dark witch glared at her in silence.

"So," she spoke softly, her voice cracking a bit. "We're back to this now?"

Bellatrix let out a mocking cackle. "We were never more, muddy!" she said before her face contorted into a mocking pout. "Too bad... so sad."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. Yes. They were back to _this._

"I mean, how is it _my_ fault that one look at me makes you wet with desire, hm?" Bellatrix shrugged. "The problem is yours, ugly little mudblood."

Hermione hadn't meant to cry in front of Bellatrix. She'd wanted to remain strong. Defiant. The young witch tried so hard to remain stoic while she stirred the rabbit stew, but simply couldn't help herself. Tears came, no matter how much she didn't want them to. Her hands shook and her body quivered as she shed unwanted tears over this monster of a woman.

And when the dark witch's mocking cackle came, it felt as if Bellatrix had ripped her heart from her chest and trampled all over it.

By the time camp was broken up, rain was pouring down upon them. The two witches set off along the path in complete and utter silence with Hermione once again taking the lead with the map and compass and Bellatrix trailing behind staring daggers at her back. Granted, with the paths the map was less necessary and some of the signs still pointed out the walking routes. They were quite close to the exit of the sanctuary now.

Hermione wondered what would happen: Bellatrix obviously wanted to obliviate her, but she had no wand on her. She had to assume that she was still Bellatrix's prisoner in that regard. Still, they'd be entering the muggle world soon and, without wands, that was an area where Hermione held the advantage. Perhaps she could give Bellatrix the slip as she suspected the dark witch to be like a fish on dry land the moment they entered muggle Scotland. She could only hope.

In the hour it took them to get to the exit of the Sanctuary, both witches ended up drenched to the bone. But still, there was some elation when both of them realized that had finally made it. Even the dour and sneering Bellatrix cracked a bit of a smile.

The large wrought-iron gate entrance to the Sanctuary had been shut with a large rusty chain, but even from a distance, Hermione could see the chain was slack enough that only a slight push would create enough of a gap for them to slip through.

Just in front of the gate was a large square surrounded by a few buildings. A ticket booth, of course, and a ranger station which had been completely locked off. A large cafe had been abandoned and had been partially crushed by a fallen tree. It was unlikely to find something of use there anyway.

A fourth building, much larger than the others, was apparently some sort of museum dedicated to the history of the Sanctuary. It had been abandoned and left to the elements, but it was structurally sound and looked as if it would give them some shelter from the rain.

Inside the museum were some old yellowed placards telling a bit about the history of the sanctuary, some exhibits showing tools used, a maquette of the sanctuary and a lot of taxidermied magical creatures in various states of decay. The museum was dark and the dark grey sky above wasn't helping them find their way. With the sound of the rain pounding on the thankfully sturdy roof, Hermione looked for some dry wood to burn. They could warm themselves by the fire, but they had to be careful not to accidentally burn the building down.

Of course, Bellatrix did exactly nothing to help with this effort. Other than 'encouraging' her by staring angrily at her as she worked.

The plan was to wait out the harsh weather for now. Though eager to get under way, there were still several miles to hike through the Scottish Highlands to get to Cock Bridge. Likely, there would be little no to paths as there were no roads going to this sanctuary's gate. That meant a wilderness hike again.

While Hermione was still working on putting wood together for the fire, Bellatrix rose to her feet and stared off towards the other side of the museum where broken windows looked out over the square and the gate. A veritable curtain of rain had been falling for ten minutes now, worse than it was before. The two witches would have to warm themselves quickly or they might have to deal with the onset of hypothermia. Bellatrix, however, took a slight step forward and squinted, craning her neck to see better.

"What...?"

"Ssshhh," Bellatrix put a finger to her lips, her voice a mere whisper. "Our friend's back."

"What?" Hermione spoke again, quieter this time. She squinted and finally saw it. Through the curtain of rain, faint behind the watery mist but clearly there, was a single yellow glowing eye.

"Get that fire going..." Bellatrix hissed.

"I can't. There's no time," Hermione whispered back. "I'll never get that wood burning properly before that thing finds out we're in here."

Bellatrix cursed under her breath. "Once again, muddy, your uselessness astounds me."

Hermione bristled, but decided to let it go for now in the face of danger. The last time they had encountered this beast, Hermione had her gut gored open and Bellatrix managed to drive it off more through luck than through skill. She didn't much fancy a second close encounter.

"We could make for the gate," Hermione whispered her suggestion.

"It's blocking our way and it runs faster than us," Bellatrix whispered back. "Find a hiding spot."

The dark witch drew the Sword of Gryffindor and held it in front of her. To Hermione's surprise, Bellatrix took the small hatchet from her belt and held it out for Hermione to grab. Though she doubted the hatchet would do much good if the beast decided to pounce, having a weapon in hand did make her feel a little safer.

The two witches dove behind a museum display cabinet. Though it was low, it would keep them out of sight from the direction the wyvern would come from. And come it did. The creature came in from the rain, rivulets of water dripping down from its serpentine body as it stalked into the hallways. A low growl sounded from the creature as it carefully approached the spot where she and Bellatrix had been attempting to build a fire.

Hermione dared to steal a glance through the glass panes of the cabinet. Though distorted, she could make out the creature just fine. Now that the creature was relatively still, Hermione could make out just how big it was. An ugly wound where Bellatrix had slashed across its face with the sword was inflamed and festering, the remnants of the creature's eye socket meant the creature was blind on one side. More concerning were the sounds of its dagger-like talons which were ticking on the floor tiles with every step taken.

Talons which had slashed through her abdomen. She instinctively moved a hand to hold her belly.

Hermione's breath quickened as the creature loudly sniffed the remnants of their attempted fire and she almost yelled when she felt a hand clasp over her mouth. The dark witch gave her a stern, furious look as she brought a single finger to her lips. Hermione nodded and the dark witch removed her hand.

By now, the wyvern was moving again. With amazing elegance and fluidity, it jumped on top of a larger cabinet and threw its head up, again sniffing the air loudly. Hermione would be impressed by this majestic creature if it hadn't been trying to kill and eat her.

Bellatrix shifted slightly, showing Hermione a small piece of stone in her hand. She motioned her head towards the open doorway leading into another wing of the museum and then pointed to the way outside, towards the gate.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

Bellatrix took a few breaths and, trying to remain as silent as possible, whispered a few arcane words before making the throw. The rock, now magically propelled, flew silently through the air and into the other wing, creating a large bang on the other side of the building when it collided with the wall.

Instantly, the wyvern turned his head towards the sound and jumped off the cabinet, landing on the ground with a slight thud and quickly and quietly stalked into the adjacent wing.

This was their chance to escape! Bellatrix and Hermione got to their feet and quietly gathered their supplies, creeping towards the exit of the museum while keeping their footfalls as quiet as possible. They needed to get to the gate: once they were through, the creature could not follow them. They were halfway to the exit of the museum with the gate in sight when the two witches were in for a rude awakening.

It all happened so fast. Hermione cried out when the wyvern exploded through the wall, letting out a fierce bellow as placards, boards and parts of the exhibits were sent flying through the air. The young witch back-pedaled a bit too quickly and fell on her bum while the wyvern pounced upon Bellatrix.

The dark witch let out a yowl when pinned down by the wyvern's weight, a large piece of the wooden wall being effectively the only barrier between her and the creature's razor-sharp talons. The creature howled as it tried to get at Bellatrix, who yelled out in defiance while she tried to get out from it, her sword having clattered across the floor and too far out of her reach.

Hermione blinked.

This was her chance. This was her chance to escape!

She turned her head to the gate. With the wyvern occupied, she could make a run for it. And why would she stay? Bellatrix had mistreated her, abused her and toyed with her heart. She was the enemy. She owed her _nothing._ If she could make a run for it, she could find a way to rejoin her friends, the Order, the fight against Voldemort.

Then, she turned her head towards Bellatrix. The dark witch was yelling and grunting in desperation as she was trying to push the large slab of wood, and the creature on top of it, from her body. By now, the wyvern was slashing its claws into the wood, sending splinters flying. It was only a matter of time before the wyvern would get to the helpless witch and tear her to shreds.

If she ran, Bellatrix would come to a violent end.

She was the enemy, Hermione repeated in her mind. She owed her nothing. And Hermione almost did it. She almost ran towards the gate.

But when Bellatrix let out a desperate wail, Hermione simply couldn't do it. That desperate wail was as close to a cry for help as Bellatrix could give. The young witch steeled herself and took in a few deep breaths. She made a running start and bent down to grasp the Sword of Gryffindor, pointing the tip forward as she rushed the wyvern and put all the weight and her momentum into the thrust. She let out a loud cry from the depths of her lungs the moment she collided with the creature, the Sword of Gryffindor burying itself to the hilt in the creature's neck.

The wyvern let out a bellow as torrents of blood started spewing forth, rolling to one side and struggling on the floor while trying to claw the sword in its neck. It did manage to remove it, only to cause even greater injury as it sliced more of its neck open. The creature let out a last bellow before it shuddered and fell to its side, moving no more as blood pooled around its body.

Hermione sat on her knees, panting from the exertion as adrenaline soared through her body. Next to her, Bellatrix finally managed to free herself. The dark witch scrambled to her knees, wiping the splinters from her clothes. Hermione yelped when Bellatrix grabbed the sides of her head and moved to look her in the eye. For a moment, Hermione was afraid that Bellatrix would hurt her again, but when she finally looked into the wild, widened dark eyes of Bellatrix, she saw no anger there.

Was it... confusion?

The dark witch was panting, her eyes darting around wildly. To the boards, to Hermione, to the wyvern, to the sword.

The last thing the young witch expected was for the dark witch to press Hermione's head against her chest, wrap an arm around her waist and hold her tightly.

In that moment, Hermione was more afraid of Bellatrix than she had ever been of the wyvern. She was trembling almost as hard as Bellatrix was.

Being held like that... felt so comfortable. So frighteningly comfortable.

* * *

Bellatrix felt a little exposed without her mask, but considering where she was now her mask would draw far more unwanted attention than the hood pulled over her head. Trying her best to remain inconspicuous, Bellatrix walked the cobblestones of the meandering Diagon Alley. At this moment in time, the Dark Lord's lackeys were in full control of public life in the wizarding world. This would, of course, change soon enough, but the snatchers walking the streets were not aware of this fact. Holding her head low while keeping her distance from others, she passed the shop windows.

Grey, drab and lacking any of the usual colorful adornments, Diagon Alley was in a sad state. Scattered about the street were beggars, muggle-borns and so-called blood-traitors who had been stripped of their wands, their jobs and their homes: and these were the lucky ones as Azkaban was filled with the most unfortunates. Though it was only a matter of time until the Dark Lord's lackeys would be ousted from the Ministry, many of the people on the street would never fully recover.

She passed a young woman with a small child and, when she was sure none of the snatchers were looking, tossed a few coins in her hat before continuing on her way.

Once, she would have enjoyed seeing these people brought low and had gloated and mocked them as she passed by… sometimes even spitting on them. But she was no longer that woman and what she saw filled her with utmost revulsion, some aimed at herself for her own role in causing this misery. Thing is, to pull off what she had planned, she would have to become that woman again.

Gringotts, her destination, loomed in the distance. Bellatrix ducked into a quiet alley and centered herself for a moment. She'd needed to get into the headspace of her younger self... which was surprisingly hard after nearly two decades of therapy. Let's see: arrogant, petulant, quick to anger, violent and yet a methodical intelligence behind it all. She paced back and forth and tried to force angry thoughts to the surface. ' _Goblins... inferior little fucks who think they control true witches... mudblood collaborators who'd do anything for money... If they were faced with the true might of a proper pure-blood witch, they would cower in fear! They are nothing. They are_ less _than nothing!'_

After pushing down the feelings of shame which, these days, came with thoughts like this, she felt she was ready to go ahead and left the alley to step into the bank. She had to make certain that she'd be seen here. Bellatrix changed her pace, attempting to adopt the air of arrogance her younger self would radiate. She hoped it was convincing as, in her mind, it just seemed rather silly.

Gringotts itself didn't seem very much affected by the general malaise outside as the entrance was its usual marble-stone opulent self. Bankers and guardsmen alike were buzzing around doing whatever it was they did and she pulled back her hood a little. "You there, goblin!" she called out. "I would like to enter my vault!"

"Madam?"

"Lestrange!" Bellatrix loudly proclaimed. "Bellatrix Lestrange! You can verify this with your eyes, creature. These useful organs are usually located in the front of your head! I need to make a large withdrawal immediately!"

Plenty of heads were looking up in her direction. Enough people had seen her. Enough people had heard that she was making a large withdrawal. It would fuel later flames.

"I do not like to be kept waiting!" Bellatrix demanded. "I need access to my vault immediately!"

Maybe she was overdoing it a little. Regardless of how she acted, she could still pass for her younger self at a glance and the wand-check went effortlessly as it was still her own wand, time-displaced or not.

The goblin sputtered a little and rambled on about security measures and it usually taking about five hours before someone could be cleared to enter the high security vault. Of course, that wouldn't do.

"NOT FIVE HOURS LATER! NOW! I DEMAND ACCESS TO MY OWN MONEY! BOTH MY FAMILIES HAVE BEEN CUSTOMERS AT THIS DAMNABLE BANK FOR CENTURIES AND YOU'VE MADE MILLIONS OFF THE INTEREST ON _MY_ GOLD! YOU DARE TO BLOCK THE DARK LORD'S MOST FAVOURED?!" Bellatrix shrieked at the top of her lungs. Her throat started to hurt a little, as she wasn't much used to shrieking and shouting anymore.

She'd made enough of a scene, it seemed. Her younger self was supposed to be missing, after all. It had been all over the news. Bellatrix could see the whispers being exchanged.

A few moments later, she was in the mine cart as it sped through the rocky underground of Gringotts, passing vaults left and right as it dipped and banked. Eventually, the mine cart stopped at a platform at the very depths of the secured area, where the Lestrange vault was located. Silently, she followed the goblins towards her vault like she had many times before. As per usual, they started ringing the bells to keep the dragon guarding the vault from roasting them alive.

The sight of the dragon in the center area in the middle of the vaults broke her heart: torn wings, chains so tight that they had left terrible marks on hide and flesh, an expression of blank, soulless stress. To see a majestic creature such as this brought down so low.

Bellatrix sighed and stepped away from the goblin, slowly approaching the troubled creature.

"What are you doing?!" hissed her goblin attendant. "Are you mad?!"

Bellatrix ignored him and slowly, carefully approached the creature. When in reach, the dark witch slowly raised her hand and placed it on the dragon's snout. The dragon lay its head down a little, grunting slightly, but not shirking as Bellatrix gently stroked and patted his nose. "Just hold on a little longer, old friend," she whispered to the dragon. "Your quiet retirement is coming. Just a little longer."

In the future, she would purchase this dragon and several other mistreated ones from the goblins as she and Hermione had successfully lobbied with the ministry to enforce stricter laws against animal abuse and gave them a quiet home in their sanctuary. For now, however, she'd have to leave the dragon behind.

She returned to the goblin, who gave her access to the vault containing the combined wealth of the Black and Lestrange families after putting her hand on the door. She bid the goblin to leave her as she conducted her business within.

Bellatrix stood watching oceans of gold, artifacts and magical items, worth in excess of 2.1 billion muggle pounds as Hermione had once calculated. It was safe to say that her family wanted for nothing, but still she and Hermione felt it was important to teach their children the value of money. That is where Cissy had gone wrong with Draco in her opinion and she loved her children too much for them to be raised as spoiled, arrogant brats.

The main reason why she was here was not any of these coins however, but a certain cup which had been hidden in her vault on the Dark Lord's orders. Seeing the size of the vault, it did take her more time than she'd liked to track it down. In fact, she almost didn't see it as it stood hidden behind an old Egyptian statue and was overshadowed by the many far more opulent objects d'art stacked on top of each other. Bellatrix fetched it and reached in her bag, placing a perfect replica of the cup of Helga Hufflepuff where she had found it and slipped the real thing into her satchel.

Bellatrix wasn't quite done yet. She fetched a bottomless pouch and scooped it over a bunch of coins and some golden objects, sliding easily a hundred thousand of galleons worth of richest into a little bag. Then, she purposefully knocked dozens of objects right near the entrance of the vault. This action left a very visible decrease in the amount of valuable and made it seem like she had been in a hurry.

She had done what she had come here to do. Still, it was not as if she was a thief: it was all her own gold, after all and she could do with it as she pleased.

It was time to leave. She checked her pocket watch and knew she was running out of time. In fact, the moment she left the bank was the moment the Ministry officials started to arrive. Bellatrix pulled her hood over her head and ducked into an alley from which she could observe the happenings. Apparently Yaxley himself arrived with a group of dirty aurors and swiftly closed off the bank. She supposed she should be flattered that the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would lead the investigation himself.

After all, her younger self had gone missing a week ago without a trace. Her suddenly turning up at Gringotts only to disappear again would raise some questions. A few moments from now, Yaxley would use his authority to order the goblins to open the Lestrange vault and would swiftly discover a large amount of valuables had been taken from it.

This would only raise further questions.

Bellatrix let out a quiet chuckle. Everything was going exactly like it was supposed to.

For now, it was time to go and return to the relative safety of the muggle world until she was ready to make her next move.

On her way there, the dark witch passed the same muggle-born woman and child again and, while walking past, dropped the tiny pouch containing all the money she had taken into her hat. "Pay it forward," she whispered to the surprised woman.

Oh, she would definitely be surprised when she'd open the little pouch later.


	9. Self-fulfilling

After leaving the sanctuary, the trip through the highlands went surprisingly smooth. The terrain was friendlier and there was no more chance to be beset by more wyverns. The two witches even dared to risk an occasional superficial chat as they soldiered on through the highlands towards their destination, even though they both avoided talking about what happened at the sanctuary museum.

The day was well underway when something truly miraculous happened: Hermione spotted a motorway in the distance. Laughing merrily at the fact that they had been closed to civilization than Hermione first though, she encouraged her companion to rush towards it. Though Bellatrix didn't really know what a motorway was, she was well aware that seeing muggle construction nearby meant their ordeal was nearly over.

Though Bellatrix was reluctant, they did follow the road and finally reached their destination: the town of Cock Bridge.

Honestly, it was more of a hamlet. A few houses were dotted along the road, there was a pub and a bus stop.

God, a pub. Hermione closed her eyes. She'd never thought she could be so happy to see a pub.

"Somehow I was expecting more," Bellatrix muttered. "There's not even a bridge. This is a false advertisement."

"Might have been a bridge here once, I suppose," Hermione shrugged. The question about there being or not being a bridge in Cock Bridge was less relevant than the pub looming in the distance. Now being so close to her destination, Hermione truly felt just how tired she was from her ordeal and, judging from Bellatrix's expression, the dark witch felt much the same.

They were dirty, sweaty and tired, but that would be an oft seen sight around these parts where walkers were the norm rather than the exception. Hermione did worry about the now dried blood on her shirt and her trousers which could raise questions. After zipping up her coat and covering up most of the stains, they entered the pub.

The pub, one Allargue Arms Hotel, was a very cozy place. A bar dominated most of the common room, along with a few tables. As was common in pubs, photographs and old items from the area had been hung from the walls, along with the Scottish flag. Some muggles were seated and enjoyed their drinks while Scottish folk music played. Bellatrix looked a bit uneasy and remained standing behind Hermione as if the younger witch would shield her from the muggles now surrounding her.

Hermione just let the warmth wash over her. God, it felt so good. Real food. Beds. Drinks Showers. And a toilet. A proper TOILET!

Funny the things you take for granted when out in the sticks.

She let her eye float over the menu and wanted to have it all. Burgers, fish and chips, haggis, Shepherd's pie, chicken wings, bangers. Unfortunately, she came to the realization that all of these things cost money. Money they didn't have.

"Damn," Hermione muttered to herself. She still had access to her parent's bank account. Maybe there was something she could do, or perhaps convince the barman to open a slate for her.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Bellatrix muttered.

"We can't afford anything on the menu," said Hermione. "Or a room. Or a bus ticket out of here."

While Hermione was contemplating what to do, Bellatrix slipped away for a moment. Hermione weighed her options. Perhaps if she could show them the bloody clothes, the barman would offer help. But then again, someone might call the police and the absence of actual wounds would be very hard to explain. Maybe they could trade something? Or offer to clean up the pub later, or wash some dishes in the kitchen in exchange for a meal?

Hermione decided to sit down for now, and picked a booth near the back of the pub for Bellatrix's sake. It would keep her away from most of the activity. Bellatrix came back, sat down opposite to Hermione and held out a wallet for her to take.

"Did... did you just mug someone?" Hermione asked.

"Hmpf," said Bellatrix. "What do you take me for, muddy? I'm not a petty criminal. No, no, I just applied a confundus charm to that bloke over there and suggested I should hold his coinpurse for a while. Then he gave me this... thing."

Hermione looked over to her side and saw a middle-aged muggle walker looking very shaken and confused.

"Put that down!" Hermione hissed. "Do you want to get arrested?!"

Bellatrix pulled the wallet out of her reach and fiddled with it a little. "Doesn't look like any coinpurse I've ever seen."

Eventually, she worked out the clasp and fished out a few banknotes. Bellatrix held it up, feeling it with her fingers for a bit before folding it out and studying it. "Mudpet, what is this thing?"

"That," said Hermione, taking the opportunity to snatch the wallet from Bellatrix, "is our dinner, our room and our bus ticket."

In total, there were almost 180 pounds in the man's wallet. It was a shame to inconvenience him, but their need was greater than his at the moment. The man's business card was in the wallet and Hermione promised to mail him his wallet and reimburse the money they'd taken today when all this was over.

"This is muggle money?" Bellatrix asked. "They don't use gold? It's just a piece of paper."

"Trust me, it's very hard to forge," said Hermione. "And a lot lighter than gold. Remember, in the muggle world, there's no charms to make your coinpurse lighter."

"That's _their_ problem, now isn't it?" Bellatrix snorted.

After making sure nobody had seen them actually taking the muggle's money, both witches eagerly ordered their pub grub and drinks. After rainwater and rabbit stew for days, any food was pure heaven. Hermione had ordered a burger with chips, while Bellatrix had opted for a more traditional plate of fish and chips. It was odd to see Bellatrix bending down over a big plate of fish and chips, wolfing down her chips as if someone would take it away from her if she'd eat it too slowly. She took more time with the fish, just like Hermione took more time with her burger.

"Food that isn't rabbit stew," Bellatrix closed her eyes and almost slipped into a happy food-coma.

"I know," Hermione closed her eyes right along with her. "Fizzy drinks that don't taste like rainwater."

"A warm common room," Bellatrix muttered.

"A shower."

"A real bed."

"No wyverns."

That last one made the both of them chuckle for a bit. This... this was good. It reminded her of the banter they'd had on the trip right before... right before the kiss. Truth be hold, the kiss had been on Hermione's mind for some time. It was her first kiss, after all. Her first ever kiss and even though she had really enjoyed it, she was reluctant to bring it up.

Bellatrix was a truly beautiful woman, and the warm light of the pub brought out her eyes. Perhaps Bellatrix was right: perhaps she did prefer the company of women. Still, pretty though the dark witch was, she couldn't see herself spending the rest of her life with her.

At least Bellatrix had stopped talking about obliviating her and, after saving her life, had started to treat her as somewhat as a human being again. So there was at least that and it was more than she had been expecting.

One room was available and Hermione quickly rented it before a walker would snatch it up and, with both of them being tired, getting a nice long night of sleep in a proper bed would be beyond amazing. In fact, as the two witches went up the stairs, Hermione told her traveling companion how wonderful it would be to take a shower.

So naturally, that meant she'd have to wait for Bellatrix to go first.

Great. With her luck, Bellatrix would end up using all the hot water too.

The room was rather nice, clean and cozy, containing a wardrobe, a double bed, a television and a number of flyers for local activities. Hermione put down the rucksack near the wardrobe and took off her coat. She'd have to try to wash at least the blood stains out of her shirt at some point tomorrow morning and she leafed through the flyers to see if she could find some information on buses and travel times.

A leaflet on the local Corgarff Castle piqued her interest for a moment and she picked it up. While she read a little on the local history, she heard the oddest thing over the sound of the trickling water.

Was Bellatrix... singing in the shower?

Hermione put down the leaflet and carefully crept to the door to press her ear against it. Only to find out she'd been right: Bellatrix was humming a wordless tune as she showered, melodic and elegant. Though she didn't recognize the song, it was obvious that Bellatrix carried it well. Perhaps, in another life, Bellatrix could have been a great singer. Perhaps she could have been a lot of things if Voldemort hadn't been part of her life.

Hermione thought back to the stories they had shared during their trip. The more she learned about the dark witch, the more fascinated with her she became. They had surprisingly much in common, not the least of which was that they'd both been coined the brightest witch of her respective generation.

Perhaps Hermione could have ended up becoming more like her if she had been unfortunate enough to meet the wrong kind of people.

Once again, the kiss they had shared floated back into her mind, causing her to blush a little. Wouldn't it be romantic if Bellatrix were to sing to her, dance with her in the night and then gently kiss her on the lips?

Hermione quickly dismissed her foolishness. That wasn't going to happen.

When Bellatrix left the shower, a tower wrapped over her hair and another one around her body, Hermione was again at the leaflet rack and quickly pushed past her into the shower, locking the door behind her. She shed her clothes, stepped underneath the shower and let the hot water pour own on her.

Oh, heaven.

Hermione closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the heat as all the grime, dirt and dried blood washed off her. Soap. Shampoo. Such simple pleasures. Hermione simply stood there under the shower head, enjoying the hot water pouring down on her until it ran out. Afterwards, she dried herself off feeling fresh, clean and attractive.

Before getting dressed, she did check herself in the mirror. It was the first time she could get a full sense of the scars running over her abdomen and she hissed a little. Three long gashes, between her ribs and navel, running from the middle of her belly to her left side. All things considered, it could have ended much worse, but she wouldn't be wearing a bikini to the beach anytime soon. Perhaps a charm or two might help hide the scars temporarily.

Hermione let out a sigh. Any man... or woman... who was petty enough to complain about her scars wouldn't be worthy of being with her in the first place.

Leaving her dirty clothes, she left the shower in her underwear. In her room, she found that Bellatrix had already claimed the bed, laying on her side with her back to her and the duvet pulled over her body. Bellatrix was tired. And so was Hermione.

She wouldn't make her sleep on the floor, would she?

Hermione carefully approached the bed, lifted the duvet and slipped under it. So far, there was no protest, a shriek or a kick to the side, so Hermione figured she'd be fine sleeping in the bed. And such a soft, warm and comfortable bed it was. She could sleep forever in this lovely bed.

Still, one thought remained. One worry which needed to be answered.

"What happens tomorrow?" Hermione asked softly. "Am I still your prisoner?"

Bellatrix remained silent for a moment. A silence which almost became unbearable until she finally spoke. "No," she replied softly. "Tomorrow we both go our separate ways."

"Separate ways," Hermione repeated. She supposed that was the best outcome she could hope for.

"And... after that?" Hermione asked. She knew she shouldn't have asked. She knew she shouldn't push her luck. But she couldn't prevent herself from pulling the tiger by the tail.

Bellatrix still didn't turn to look at her. "After that? The next time we meet, it will be as enemies. I hope you'll be prepared, little muddy. Don't expect mercy or lenience. Next time we meet, you will die."

Oddly enough there was no malice in her voice. No poison dripping from her lips. No glee. It was merely a statement of fact to her. Bellatrix almost sounded... regretful, if Hermione didn't know any better.

Still, after all they'd been through, both the good and the bad, the idea of the two of them being enemies once more made her sad. And she didn't really know why.

Once she closed her eyes, Hermione drifted off to a sleep so deep no dreams could reach her.

* * *

This muggle pub was quite nice, to be honest. Quiet and in the middle of Manchester, this was an oasis of a sort, a welcome change from the modernity of muggle Manchester. Plenty of people agreed with this sentiment, as the pub was filled with people chattering, drinking and even singing a tune or two.

It was also a good cover. Among the Death Eaters, Antonin was known for visiting muggle pubs to try a variety of craft ales, so him popping in one for his usual 'vice' wouldn't be all that strange. Still, Bellatrix kept her distance, having chosen a dark spot in the pub where she wouldn't be easily spotted. With her hood up and quietly picking at her food, she would be making the impression of a simple muggle woman finishing a meal after a long day at the office. Antonin, in the meantime, sat at the bar enjoying a freshly tapped pint.

She preferred to be on the safe side, since at this point the Dark Lord had become so paranoid that he had many of his supposedly loyal troops followed. Bellatrix remained eating and reached out, making a mental connection with Antonin.

" _Don't look up. Keep drinking_."

" _Where are you, Bella?_ "

" _Near. Don't look around. Just focus on your glass._ "

" _It's good to hear a friendly voice,_ " replied Antonin in her mind. " _It's… it's been a madhouse_."

" _That bad?_ "

" _Nott is dead_ ," replied Antonin. " _The Dark Lord randomly flew off the handle and just killed him on the spot. He said he didn't like the way he was stammering. If left many of us shaken. He's convinced there's a traitor among his ranks and he can't figure out who is it that's been sabotaging his plans and attacking his troops_."

" _He doesn't know that there's someone out there with knowledge from the future who knows his plans before he's even made them_ ," Bellatrix chuckled inwardly. " _It must be driving him completely around the bend_."

" _When you put it that way, that does sound rather far-fetched, doesn't it?_ " Antonin replied.

Bellatrix laughed to herself. " _There'll be plenty of reminiscing about this point in time when we do our annual ex-Death Eater pub crawls. Just laughing and generally drinking ourselves stupid… though there was one year when Misuse of Muggle Artifacts got involved. Apparently, it's not allowed to charm a jukebox to break-dance. We even managed to convince Lucius to go along a few times. He gets weepy when he's pissed, you know?_ "

" _Well, if the Dark Lord gets even more unhinged, there might not be that many Death Eaters left to go on that pub crawl of yours_ ," added Antonin before taking a sip from his ale. " _I've talked to some of the others. Thorfinn and Penelope are on board. Still working on Rookwood and the Snydes. Augustus has grandchildren he's worried about and the Snydes' daughter just had a baby. They're worried about reprisals_."

Bellatrix nodded. That was to be expected. " _The consequences for them will be far worse if the Dark Lord rises to power. We are nothing but tools for him. And when he's done with us…_ "

" _I know,_ " Antonin replied. " _We'll all end up like Nott. It would be easier to tell them we have an outside source with knowledge of the future_."

" _Don't_!" Bellatrix pressed. " _We cannot risk him finding out or it'll all be over. The only reason I've revealed myself to you is because I know how strong you are at Occlumency. If the Dark Lord manages to lift knowledge of me out of anyone's head, it'll all be over and we'll hang from nooses._ "

" _What exactly is the plan here, Bella?_ " Antonin asked.

" _Just keep working on getting Rookwood and the Snydes on ourside_ ," said Bellatrix. " _You'll be contacted by the Order of the Phoenix when the time is right_."

" _Come again? You're in bed with the Order now?_ "

" _Not yet, but I will be soon_ ," grinned Bellatrix. " _Just as soon as I give them my husband and his idiot brother on a silver platter._ "

" _I did send those snatchers up to Scotland, by the way_ ," said Antonin. " _Worst pair of thugs I could find, like you told me to. I can't imagine what they'll find up there_."

" _You'll see,_ " said Bellatrix. " _I want you to be surprised. It'll be convincing in front of the Dark Lord_."

" _I shudder with anticipation_."

" _I can make out the sarcasm from here_ ," said Bellatrix. " _Plans are in motion. We won't see each other again until then._ "

" _When will that be?_ "

" _It's better that you not know_ ," said Bellatrix. " _Do you trust me?_ "

" _I do_ ," said Antonin. " _Well, at least I trust you more than the dark lord. Endlessly more._ "

" _I'll take it_ ," said Bellatrix. " _We'll need you to write your books, including your wizard's guide to muggle pubs. We'll need that for our pub crawls._ "

Antonin laughed mentally again. " _Just how many books will I write?_ "

" _Hermione calls you a more prolific writer than Stephen King_."

" _That doesn't mean anything to me_ ," said Antonin. " _Tell you one thing, though. I can't wait to get started._ "

" _Be safe, Antonin_."

" _You as well, Bella. Watch your back._ "

Bellatrix left the pub, keeping up the guise as a muggle office lady to avoid attracting attention. She didn't stop walking until she was almost a mile away and spotted Chorlton Park in the distance. Truth be told, she hadn't spent time in her home city of Manchester for years and certainly not in the muggle area of town. One of the things being with Hermione had taught her to enjoy the muggle world: it had taken wild horses to drag her out to it for the first few years, of course, but these days she was more than comfortable with it.

A quiet walk through the park while evening was falling would be just what she needed. She passed a peanut vendor by the entrance who was just about to shut down for the evening and paid her two pounds for a bag of warm, sugar-coated peanuts.

Chorlton Park was dense with trees and to the undiscerning eye could easily pass for a forest, were it not for the sounds of the city penetrating this oasis of green. She passed a few dog walkers and found a quiet bench overlooking the large lake in the middle. There was actually a wizarding cafe nearby as well as a wizarding playground. When she'd been little, her mother had brought her and her sisters there to play ever so often.

She smiled at the memory. It felt like an age ago.

Bellatrix looked over the waters, promising herself that she'd bring her own kids to play in this park some day. Though Rigel would likely prefer to sit on the bench which his Switch and play that Crossing Animals game of his, Lydia was still at that age where she liked to run around like a headless chicken before going back to the bench to cuddle up with mum and fall asleep on her lap.

It wasn't all fun and games, though. The kids were very much already getting into the family business. Rigel had been helping her out at the dragon hatchery plenty of times. Lydia had been helping Hermione and had tremendously enjoyed bottle-feeding a freshly hatched hippogriff whom had been abandoned by his mother.

Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure if she'd survive this. Right before she'd left, she'd spent some time with her children and actually said goodbye to them. Just in case. She'd told them she'd be leaving on a trip. A lie, of course.

What would happen if she'd die on her mission? How would her children remember her? At least she didn't have to worry about them thinking that she had abandoned them: if the worst were to happen, Hermione would tell them the truth.

She didn't want to think about it. Instead, she closed her eyes and centered herself. During her years of therapy, she'd come to learn that meditation was a good way to deal with her anxiety and anger issues. The thought of never seeing her family ever again gave her plenty of either of those.

So instead, she centered herself and forced herself to focus. After a year of build-up, it had come to this: everything would be decided within the next two weeks.

There was no room for doubt. There was no room for error. It was time to secure her future.


	10. Self-defense

Hermione could honestly say that she hadn't slept that well in ages. The bed was soft, warm and comfortable. But when she woke up, there was an additional source of warmth and comfort. Like one of those first nights in the tent, she woke up to find arms wrapped around her possessively and a soft body pressing against her back. Bellatrix clutched onto her and Hermione could feel the rising and falling of her chest with every breath taken.

It felt so good being held like that. Hermione didn't want to get up, she didn't want it to end, and even though she had woken up well rested, she simply remained lying in bed feeling absolutely boneless.

Only when Bellatrix stirred herself, did Hermione pretend to be asleep. Having no idea how the unpredictable dark witch would react, she felt it was for the best. She expected curses, a push or even a tantrum of sort, but neither came.

Instead, the dark witch would withdraw her arms, but remain lying down. Hermione kept her eyes closed when she felt fingers running through her hair. Gentle, repeated stroking. This went on for a few minutes before the dark witch seemingly got out of bed and Hermione chose that moment to pretend to stir.

The didn't exchange a word as they both had their turn in the shower, got dressed and wandered downstairs after gathering their belongings. They found the inn's common room to be empty with the exception of the barmaid and breakfast was quickly served in the form of bacon-and-eggs.

"How will you get home?" asked Hermione. "You're in muggle-Scotland in the middle of nowhere."

Bellatrix shrugged. "No need to worry about me, little mudpet. I have my ways. You?"

"Busstop," said Hermione. "With the left-over money you took from the muggle, I should be able to reach my nan's house. From there I can try to contact people I know."

"I suppose this is it then, muddy," replied Bellatrix. "I would say this trip was enjoyable, but that would be a lie."

Hermione instinctively felt her now scarred abdomen. "Ditto," replied the young witch. "It definitely had its ups and down."

"And we didn't end up falling in love," Bellatrix cackled. "That so-called older version of me was full of shite after all."

"I still don't know what to make of her," Hermione replied. "She seemed genuine enough."

Before the conversation could go any further, two gentlemen entered the pub. It was obvious from a first glance that they were both wizards. They wore muggle clothing, but seemed decidedly off. They wore flared patchwork trousers from what looked to be the eighties and the top of a shell suit. Clothing that was a mismatch of colour, era and style, as if they had no idea what muggles wore and just guessed it. They seemed to be in their early thirties and looked decidedly thuggish and stern.

"Dammit," Bellatrix hissed. "Don't look. That's Pritchard and Glabber. What are they doing here?!"

"Snatchers?" Hermione asked, swallowing hard.

"Exactly," whispered Bellatrix. "Nasty individuals. Pretend you're under my influence. Let me do the talking."

The barmaid looked up from her work and gave the two men a friendly smile. "Excuse me, gents. The pub is closed except for hotel guests at the moment, but the general kitchen will open in a hours. You're free to wait in the lounge if you want."

A wand was raised, a spell was whispered and the poor girl was stunned, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The two men let out a bellow of laughter at the barmaid's expense as they inspected the pub. It did not take them long to find the two witches sat in the corner. "Oi!" shouted the tall one named Pritchard. "Is that... Nah, fuck my arse and call me Shirley! LESTRANGE!"

"What?" Glabber, a shorter, fatter man squinted to see better. "What are you doing 'ere?"

"Eating breakfast, it seems," Pritchard laughed. "Half the wizarding world is looking for you!"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, glowering at the two men while Hermione did as Bellatrix had told: keeping her eyes downcast and moving as little as possible. "My business is my own. A better question would be what you two morons are doing here?" Bellatrix hissed.

"Got a hot tip from high up the ladder that some mudbloods were hiding out here. Looks like we hit the jackpot. A missing Death Eater and a very pretty little thing," Pritchard chuckled. Though Hermione couldn't see him, she could feel the eyes roving over her body.

"I'm on a vital mission given to me by the Dark Lord himself! And this is my prisoner. Aren't you, my lovely little muddy?" Bellatrix replied, turning to Hermione.

Hermione took a few deep breath and started droning monotonously, keeping her eyes low. "Yes, mistress Lestrange. I am your prisoner, mistress Lestrange."

"You see? Very docile now," grinned Bellatrix, only to return to glowering at the two men. "What do you think you're doing by stunning the barmaid? I'm trying to keep a low profile and you're jeopardizing my mission! What do you think the Dark Lord will do to you if my mission fails and you are to blame, hm?!"

Glabber snorted. "Oh, come now, Lestrange, the fact that you're sitting here with a plate of bacon and eggs in front of your gob proves that you're not the in the thick of it. Besides, what could be here that's so important to the Dark Lord? There's nothin' for miles!"

"That's for the Dark Lord to decide, not you!" Bellatrix rose from her seat. "Now roll your todger back into your trousers, turn around and bugger off before I _make_ you bugger off!"

Pritchard rubbed his chin. "What happened at Malfoy Manor, Lestrange?" he asked. "Been hearing loads of wild stories about you being snatched up by some masked vigilante."

"Haven't you considered that that was what you were supposed to hear?" Bellatrix grinned. "It's called misdirection. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

Glabber stood entirely too close to Hermione for her own liking. "Such a pretty little thing. I think we should have a little fun with her. She seems very willing and… compliant. I bet we can make her do all sorts of things."

"Now that," Pritchard said, leering, "is a bloody good idea. This is a hotel, right? They should have some rooms free."

Hermione was getting very nervous now, especially when Glabber grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her off her chair.

"Stop!" Bellatrix demanded. "She is mine!"

Pritchard grinned. "Come on now, Lestrange. Sharing is caring." He laughed. "Afterwards, we could help you with your mission, whatever it is."

"Let's find a quiet place out back," Glabber smirked and started dragging Hermione along.

It was then that Hermione started struggling: no way she would go along with whatever these two rotters were planning to do to her. Unfortunately, the men were stronger and were quick to attempt to subdue her.

"Whoa whoa," Pritchard laughed as he grabbed her around the waist. "She's got some spirit left in her!"

Hermione yelled and struggled to escape, kicking out with her legs while she was being dragged along. She felt a kick connecting and heard an enraged shout. "Hahaha!" sounded Pritchard as he kept holding on to her. "Mudblood got you right in the knackers, you great big saddo!"

"Fucking cunt!" Glabber groaned as he held his crotch for a moment. "Okay, no more playing!"

By now, Hermione had been subdued and was being held in a double shoulder-lock. Despite her continued struggles, Hermione could not break free.

"You alright mate?" Pritchard asked.

"Yeah," he snarled and draw a long serrated knife from his belt. "You know they call them mudbloods, right? They say there's mud running through their bodies. I wanna see if it's true."

Hermione gasped in horror. Surely they couldn't. No. They wouldn't! They wouldn't!

Pritchard reached down and raised her shirt up, exposing her belly. "No!" Hermione yelled. "You can't just cut me open!"

"Who cares," Glabber spat. "You're just a fucking little mudblood, girl. Who's gonna care about you?"

God, they were going to carve her up like a roast!

Magic crackled through the air as Glabber's knife clattered to a ground. A coil of rope, once a decoration behind the bar, was now outstretched and wrapped firmly around the snatcher's neck. Bellatrix stood next to the table, holding up her hand, her entire arm glowing with arcane power.

There was a cruel intensity to her dark eyes and the rope coiled tighter around his neck as Bellatrix slowly squeezed her hand into a fist.

"Are you mad?!" Pritchard shouted. "What are you doing, Lestrange?!"

Glabber gurgled as he clawed at the rope, trying desperately to get it off his throat.

Bellatrix's voice was low, threatening and menacing. "She… is… _MINE_!"

Pritchard blinked. "What?"

"She is mine!" Bellatrix repeated. "MINE MINE MINE MINE!"

Pritchard regarded his trapped friend and then the madwoman he was faced with. Bellatrix shot him the most hateful of glares and an intensity in her eyes promising the most painful of deaths. "Fine!" he shouted. "Keep her then!"

Pritchard pushed Hermione to the ground, took out his wand and swiftly apparated away with a crack. Bellatrix threw her head back and cackled. Glabber was on his knees now, his face turning purple. "Your friend has abandoned you to your death," Bellatrix said as she knelt down besides him, a sadistic little smile on her face. "I'm going to kill you now. You're going to die because you couldn't keep your sticky fingers to yourself. Feel that darkness approaching? Feel your own desperation? That's death… it's coming for you. And I'll laugh when it takes you away. It's going to be long. It's going to be slow. It's going to be painful. And I'll enjoy every second of it."

Glabber aimed his gaze at her. He could not speak, but his eyes pleaded for mercy. Hermione realized that he was actually pleading to _her_ rather than the unrelenting Bellatrix.

"You will not touch what is mine," Bellatrix hissed. "You will not defile what is mine. You are beneath her."

By now, Hermione had recovered and gently held Bellatrix's arm. "Bellatrix, don't kill him," she pleaded.

"What?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Do you realize what he was planning to do to you? Or is being raped and potentially murdered just a fun pastime for you?"

"I'm not as forgiving as you think," Hermione responded, narrowing her eyes at this wretch of a man. "But fact remains we're still trapped in the muggle world. If you kill him and the muggles find us standing over a dead body, it'll cause a lot of questions we won't have answers to."

Bellatrix bristled, but apparently saw the wisdom in her words. With a wave of her hand, the rope released the struggling snatcher. "Fine!" Bellatrix hissed. "Remember, little boy, you owe your life to a mudblood!"

Glabber, naturally, didn't stay. He struggled to grab his wand and quickly apparated away.

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. It was over.

After tucking her shirt into her trousers, she smiled and turned to Bellatrix. "Thanks, I..." Her words caught in her throat when she saw Bellatrix glowering at her: her eyes were wild and wide and her chest was heaving. Before she could reacted, the dark witch pounced upon her, knocking her to the ground. With fear and disbelief, Hermione gasped for breath when she found two strong hands wrap around her throat and start to squeeze as the dark witch straddled her.

Mad eyes met hers as Bellatrix was beyond rage. "FILTHY MUDBLOOD! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE MADE ME DO?!" Bellatrix shrieked at the top of her lungs. But just as quickly as the rage came, it was gone. Hermione took a tug of breath when the hands around her throat loosened. Bellatrix's mad eyes turned watery right before tears came flowing forth.

"Wh..." Hermione started to say, only for the dark witch to bend forward to crush her lips on hers.

It was a hungry kiss. It was a desperate kiss. Bellatrix quickly forced her lips apart with her tongue and probed her mouth. Their tongues met and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Gone was the anger. Gone was the rage. Gone was the pain. Bellatrix flowed into her, gentle and gentle could be. Hermione's second kiss was even more wonderful than her first kiss. Almost instinctively, she moved her arms to embrace the dark witch and pull her tighter against her. Dark curls fell down and tickled her skin while Bellatrix returned the embrace.

Here they were. Kissing madly on the floor of a muggle pub after being accosted by two chav snatchers. Such an odd turn her life had taken.

Tears dropped down on her cheek. Bellatrix had never stopped crying during their kiss. Eventually, Bellatrix broke the kiss and hovered above her for a moment. In her eyes, Hermione saw sadness and despair. The dark witch crawled away from her and sat against the wall, hugging herself and sobbing quietly.

Hermione said nothing, but carefully approached her. "Bella?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"What I just did..." Bellatrix spoke through her sobs. "They'll report back. They'll find out I was never sent on a mission. I defended a mudblood. They'll brand me a traitor. ME! A TRAITOR! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! THIS is all…"

For a moment, Hermione was afraid that the dark witch would strike her. Instead, Bellatrix rested a hand on her cheek and gently rubbed her skin. Hermione gave her a smile and reached out, a hand running through Bellatrix's dark curls. "We'll figure this out."

"I'm not a traitor, I'm not a traitor, I'm not a traitor, I'm not a traitor..." Bellatrix repeated over and over again, endless tears running over her cheeks.

Hermione looked into the frightened, tearful eyes of a woman whose life was crumbling.

She reached over and held on to Bellatrix. She held her because she needed it.

And Bellatrix let her.

* * *

Again, Bellatrix found herself standing in the Tonks household and only too happy to be holding a newborn. She gentle cooed at little Teddy Lupin, a very happy and burbling baby boy. She bounced him a little, eliciting a few giggles. Teddy's powers as a metamorphmagus were already on display as Teddy kept changing the hair color of what little he had on a whim to suit his mood.

Bellatrix held out her finger and Teddy eagerly grabbed at it. Andie was standing next to her, gushing at the little boy like a proud nan would, tickling his nose with one finger while laying her hand on Bellatrix's shoulder.

"You're great with him," Andie smiled as she took the boy from her and hugged him to her chest.

"I remember first holding my own newborn son. And my daughter," Bellatrix smiled. "It was so surreal. This little person in your arms, looking up at you."

"No offense, but you never did strike me as the maternal type," said Andie.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I still don't see myself as particularly maternal either, for what it's worth. I do my best to raise my children well, but... sometimes it feels like I haven't earned them."

"Don't be silly," Andie smiled and squeezed her shoulder a little. "I'm glad you visited. I... I feel like I have my sister back."

Bellatrix gave her a smile. "I'm... I'm so sorry for everything that happened between us. I promise you, you're going to hear that ad nauseum for the next couple of years. There's still a long road ahead for my younger self. Please... forgive her outbursts in the future."

"Considering you married and have children with a muggle-born, I'd say the road leads to a wonderful place," Andie smiled.

"I'll be a very bendy, rocky and awkward road," smiled Bellatrix. "Believe me, I know all about it."

Her niece announced herself and entered the living room wearing a bathrobe. "Ah, I thought I heard a visitor. Aunty Bella. Aunty... older Bella," said Nymphadora. "Still trying to wrap my head around that."

"Dora, what are you doing out of bed?!" Andie demanded. "You need your rest."

"Mum, please! I've been sleeping quite enough the past couple of days," Nymphadora took her son and entertained him by making a literal duck-face. Teddy giggled and tried to grab his mother's beak. "It's a shame dad hasn't been able to meet his grandson yet. Only was able to send some photographs. But at least, thanks to you, I have a dad to send photographs to."

Bellatrix gave her a nod.

"So," Nymphadora gave her a wink. "When do I get to kill my uncle?"

The dark witch let out a chuckle and crossed her arms. "Soon enough, Dora. Soon enough."

"Dora!" said Andie. "You're not going anywhere until you've gotten a proper rest. Rodolphus Lestrange and his brother are very dangerous men."

"I won't be going in alone," said Dora. "And I'm not helpless! Besides, I'll have 'Batman' here with me."

"That's the spirit, Dora," added Bellatrix with a smile. "But Andie has the right of it. Rest up a bit. Those two tossers aren't going anywhere. Besides, there's some other things I need to take care of first."

Dora rolled her eyes in response. "I'm going stir-crazy in this house," said Dora. "I can't just... stay here and do nothing while the world is falling apart all around us."

"We'll have to wait for Remus to come back from his mission, anyway," said Bellatrix. "And I'm sure he'd like to spend some time with his son before he goes on another mission."

Dora sighed, blowing some hair from her face in the same way a petulant teenager would. "Perhaps you're right. I'm just eager to do something. Why do you get all the fun taking out all the Death Eaters."

"Not only taking out," said Bellatrix. "I've always been recruiting."

"Recruiting for what?"

"You'll see," Bellatrix winked.

"Ugh! You keep your secrets for now, but I don't think old mad-eye will be as tolerant," said Dora.

"That's why we'll be taking out the Lestrange brothers," said Bellatrix. "Andie, I will need your help."

"Me?" said Andie. "I'm hardly a battle-witch."

Bellatrix smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to hold your own. No, Andie," said Bellatrix, her expression turning serious. "I know you and Cissy see each other every Tuesday afternoon at Rosie's Tea Shop in Swindon. You have been for the last twenty years."

For a moment, a look of pure shock crossed Andie's features, as Bellatrix had just laid bare one of her and Cissy's deepest secrets. Even Dora had been in the dark before today and gave her mother an incredulous expression while holding her son. "Mum? But you have knitting club on Tuesday!"

Andie shook her head. "No," she said. "Bella is right. Your aunt Narcissa and I meet up regularly. Just to talk, swap stories and sometimes both of us need a shoulder to cry on."

"Oh, my..." Nymphadora muttered. "MUM! Aunt Narcissa is married to a Death Eater! You have ties to the Order! Do realize how dangerous... the security leaks... Mad-Eye... Lucius Malfoy... WHAT?!"

"Don't worry," said Bellatrix. "Narcissa kept her secret to everybody, as did your mum. It was Narcissa herself who told me about your secret meetings. A few years from now. And I'll eventually join you every week."

Andie smiled briefly. "I'm actually quite happy to hear that, Bella," she said, laying a hand on Bellatrix's shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still a little angry with you. And happy at the same time. Does that make sense?"

"I think it does," said Bellatrix.

"What are you planning?" asked Andie.

"I need to talk to Cissy," said Bellatrix. "It's vital if we want to keep our family together."

"How can I help?" Andie asked.

Bellatrix simply grinned. "All I need from you is a single hair."


	11. Self-doubt

After making sure that the barmaid was alright and helping her to her feet, Hermione had quickly suggested that it was time to leave before more snatchers would show up. Bellatrix, though still very much shaken from what had just happened, could only agree. Even in a worse state of mind that usual, Bellatrix had simply followed Hermione quietly as they gathered their belongings and headed towards the bus stop. Truth be told, Bellatrix' state worried her somewhat. The dark witch's state seemed to be switching between numb and skittish, withdrawn into herself without speaking so much as a word.

Thankfully, the bus to Aberdeen would be passing through in about ten minutes and right now, every single minute counted. Every so often, Hermione darted her eyes towards the pub and then back to the empty road in the distance, fearing more snatchers would turn up before they'd have a chance to escape. Intense relief came when the red-white bus appeared in the distance and there was no sign of further snatchers. Hermione got on board and used the 'borrowed' muggle money to pay for two bus tickets.

She noticed however, that the bus driver looked past her before turning back to her. "Is your friend alright?" the burly muggle man asked.

Hermione turned to look at Bellatrix. The dark witch was standing in front of the double doors, looking warily at the muggle machine as it waited for her to board. She was white as a sheet, regarding the machine with a hushed, nervous expression.

It was then that Hermione realized that Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most dangerous and fearless dark witches whom had ever lived, was actually _afraid_ to get on the bus. This was at the same time endearing and deeply comical to Hermione.

The young witch held out her hand for Bellatrix to take. The dark witch looked up at her with wide eyes and carefully, very carefully, extended her own hand. Her grip was weak and somewhat reluctant as Hermione helped her overcome her fears of boarding the bus. However, the trouble started when the double doors closed behind her. Bellatrix let out a brief yelp and spun around, pressing herself against the door while clawing over the glass as if she was a trapped animal. "Hey," Hermione spoke softly and took her by the hand. "It's fine. Let's just take a seat."

Dark eyes shot wildly across the interior of the bus. Thankfully, there were only a handful of muggles on board and most of them were paying attention. One old lady looked up from her puzzle book with a look which seemed to scream 'sit down and stop holding up the bus, you daft cunt.' before looking down again.

God love the Scots.

Hermione pressed a hand against the small of her back and slowly moved her towards the aisle. "Anxiety issues," Hermione whispered to the driver after he gave her a questioning look.

Bellatrix kept her arms pressed to her side as she carefully avoided seats and muggles while being moved to the back of the bus where there was plenty of room for them to sit. Hermione motioned for her to sit and thankfully, the dark witch complied without question. Another shudder when through her body when the bus started moving. The dark witch merely sat there stiff as a board as her eyes darted back and forth.

"It's fine," said Hermione. "You've driven the Knight bus, right?"

"Of course," Bellatrix replied softly. "But this is not the Knight bus."

Bellatrix fell into silence again, her thoughts apparently somewhere else. Hermione decided to leave her be for the moment and watched the Scottish highlands pass by as the bus moved through the vales, leaving the mountains of Cairngorms behind them.

The landscape started to pass by as the bus followed the meandering roads through the Highlands. There as such beautify in this land: rolling hills, sprawling lochs, domineering mountains. Her nan always told her that this land is where her roots lie and that she should explore and embrace it.

If she were to survive this stupid, meaningless war, Hermione promised herself to do just that.

They still had at least an hour of travel ahead before they would arrive. Time Hermione felt like spending with Henry David Thoreau. She pulled the book from the rucksack and flipped through the pages, ever so often looked up find Bellatrix staring aimlessly out of the window.

She was about ten pages in when Bellatrix finally spoke. "He'll punish me," her voice was broken and quiet, lacking any of the dark witch's bravado or self-assurance. Hermione closed the book and turned towards her, waiting her for her continue. "Don't you get it, muddy? He'll punish me because he loves me. He keeps me on the path because he loves me. Now that I've strayed from the path, I deserve to be punished. I deserve to be tortured."

Hermione swallowed hard. "That… that doesn't sound even remotely healthy," she replied.

A flash of anger crossed her dark eyes for a moment, but it passed quickly. "What do you know?! We're a bit beyond punishment here, though. If I go back to him now, he will kill me."

Again, Bellatrix refused to meet her gaze. Hermione looked away. "Because he loves you?" she asked. It was meant as a subtle jab with no little amount of sarcasm on her tongue. Still, Bellatrix didn't get the hint.

"Precisely!" Bellatrix hissed after snapping her head towards her. "He loves me enough to kill me if I stray too far, so that I will still die pure and perfect."

Hermione blinked, not quite believing what she was hearing. "My god. You truly believe that. But do you want to die? Like this? For this?"

Bellatrix raised her chin imperiously. "I'm ready to die for my beliefs, for my lord and for my cause!" she spoke proudly. "But... I want to die in combat. I want to die in service. But I don't want to die a traitor. Because I'm not a traitor! I have never betrayed my lord! I..."

The wild look in Bellatrix's eyes gave her pause. What if Bellatrix wanted to redeem herself in the eyes of Voldemort? As one of the golden trio and one of Harry's closest friends, Hermione herself would make one hell of an offering... perhaps enough to get back in his good graces.

Apparently, Bellatrix picked up on the worried glance Hermione gave her. "Don't worry, muddy. Handing you over to the Dark Lord won't do any good. It'll only mean he won't crucio me before he kills me," said Bellatrix. "And I'll still die a traitor."

"Bella," Hermione pursed her lips. "Is this really the world you want? A world where a simple act of kindness is a death sentence? Say what you will, but the two of us were in a tough spot and we depended on each other. And both of us got out of that sanctuary alive. We helped each other despite our differences."

Bellatrix turned her head to face the highlands again. They were passing a loch that was smooth as a mirror as the bus followed the windy road. The dark witch watched it for a moment, lost in thought. "I don't know, muddy. I just don't know," she whispered softly, a voice full of pathos. "I don't know what to do..."

She was scared. Hermione could see it in the way her eyes were darting back and forth, the slight tremble of her lip and the shaking of her hands. There was, however, something she meant to say to her. Something which was overdue.

"Thank you," Hermione spoke softly.

Bellatrix turned to her, giving her a questioning look.

"For helping me," Hermione said. "I shudder to think what those two low-lives would have done to me and if you haven't intervened. Bella, you knew saving me from those two thugs could have dire consequences for you and you still did it. I won't forget that."

Bellatrix nodded. "I'll be fair, muddy, I don't know why I did it. When I saw them manhandling you, I was simply filled with utter rage. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to hurt them badly. I didn't want them to touch you with their dirty fingers! I wanted to... to..."

"Protect me?" Hermione gasped when she realized what Bellatrix was trying to say. It certainly explained that wonderful, wonderful kiss which followed. Her heart beat a little faster when Bellatrix almost smiled at her.

"You may just be a filthy little mudblood," Bellatrix whispered. "But you're _my_ filthy little mudblood."

"I won't abandon you," said Hermione. "We'll figure something out."

Bellatrix said nothing, simply nodded in acceptance. At least it meant she'd have somewhere to go.

"You were amazing, by the way," Hermione smiled. "How you just stood there in righteous fury, slowly squeezing your hand to make the rope coil around his neck. And then that little speech you gave to the bald one. God, thinking back to it still gives me goosebumps. Nobody has ever done something like that for me before."

Bellatrix turned to her and smiled. A genuine, if slightly wicked, smile. "I was good, wasn't I?" she said, some of her usual arrogance and bravado returning, despite her low mood. Hermione couldn't help but laugh and lay her hand over Bella's. The dark witch looked out the window once more, gazing into the mirror-like loch while tilting her hand as to slightly squeeze.

An odd feeling overcame Hermione, like butterflies in her stomach as Bellatrix's fingertips gently rubbed over the skin of the back of her hand.

Suddenly, the idea of the two of them falling in love didn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

* * *

Rosie's Tea Shop was a very nice upscale magical tea-shop in the heart of Swindon's magical quarter. A quaint little place, filled with luxury, style and class, this place would be right up Cissy's alley. Though the golden candlesticks mounted on the wall were a tad on the tacky side of things, the booths that could be magically separated for privacy mean this was a very good place for two people to meet whom were supposed to have cut ties completely.

After gaining a hair and borrowing a set of Andie's clothes, Bellatrix had taken a seat at what was their regular booth... which would _be_ their regular booth when the three of them would reconnect in the future. The Black sisters were, if anything, creatures of habits. After reconnecting with her sister, Bellatrix should have picked up enough of Andie's mannerisms to be able to fool Cissy... initially, at least. Cissy was sharp, after all.

A cup of tea was quickly ordered while she waited for Cissy to arrive. Oddly enough, her youngest sister was running late, which was unusual for her. Thankfully, just as Bellatrix started to worry that Cissy wouldn't turn up at all, her youngest sister entered the establishment.

A waiter brought her to their table, where the impeccably dressed patrician Malfoy matriarch quickly put up the privacy screen. Cissy looked nervous and twittery, but quickly smiled as she reached out and took her hands. There was warmth in her grasp, with a slight touch of desperation. "Oh, Andie, it's so good to see you," said Cissy. "Have you heard from Ted or is he still laying low in France?"

Bellatrix suppressed a grin. Cissy had been effectively running a double-life: at home, she was the stern Malfoy matriarch, an absolute pure-blood paragon forced to put herself and her feelings in secondary place. But here, with her sister, she could take off her mask and speak freely. This was the Cissy whom had never turned her back on her sister and hid this from everyone, even from her own husband and son. It was here where they'd talk about their hopes, their dreams, their worries and swapped tales about their families.

"Teddy's been born," said Bellatrix, in the guise of Andie. "He's such a beautiful baby boy."

A photograph was given to Cissy, who looked at it and smiled warmly. "You're a nan before I am," Cissy laughed briefly. "I remember when Draco was born. We'd do everything to protect our family, don't we?"

"You should visit," said Bellatrix-Andie.

Cissy gave her a sad smile. "Believe me, I want to. But it's just too much of a risk, especially now. I fear the Dark Lord might have me followed. If we are seen together, there might be reprisals... for both of us. Perhaps it's for the best if we don't see each other for a while, as much as that pains me."

"Bella?" Bellatrix-Andie asked.

"Still missing," Cissy said. "Not a word so far. I've heard that yob Yaxley mention something about a sighting, but it's all very hush-hush. I don't know what's going on and nobody will tell me. It's just..."

"... what?"

"I'm worried about Bella, yes, but at the same time... I'm relieved that she's no longer around the house," said Cissy. "Andie, she's gotten even more unstable as of late. More cruel and violent. I... I don't even recognize her anymore. We should have stopped it, Andie. We should have protected her from herself."

Bellatrix-Andie paused a moment. "Bella made her choice, Cissy," she replied.

"She always looked out for us, Andie," Cissy replied softly. "But we couldn't look out for her. Merlin, why did we let Rodolphus talk us into going to that Knights of Walpurgis rally? If we hadn't, maybe things could have been different."

Seeing Cissy torn between love and fear for her in equal measure, made Bellatrix's eyes go slightly watery. "Cissy," she spoke. "You'll more be doing plenty of looking out for me in the coming years."

Cissy seemed confused. "What do you mean... coming years?"

Bellatrix-Andie gave her a lopsided smile. "You always did have more heart than I ever had, Cissy."

Cissy blinked, then squinted at her. "Wh... who are you?" she stammered. But then her eyes grew wide. "Bella?" she first whispered, then hissed. "BELLA!"

Suddenly faced with the business end of a wand, the sneering Malfoy matriarch was poised to defend herself, realizing that her biggest secret was now out. Still, never in a million years had Bellatrix expected the accusation Narcissa would throw at her next.

"What... have you done... to Andie?!" Cissy snarled with pure hatred on her voice. "What have you done with her!?"

Bellatrix blinked. "Nothing!" she replied rather indignantly "Do you really think so less of me that you expect me to harm her?"

"Oh, I _know_ you would harm her!" Narcissa retorted. "Where have you been? Has this all been just an elaborate ruse?"

Bellatrix bristled, and rose from her seat in anger, causing Narcissa to scramble back a little with her wand still raised. "Never!" Bellatrix snarled angrily. "Not even in my darkest moments would I have harmed either of you! I might scream, posture and bellow, but I would never... I would never..."

Bellatrix paused. What she was about to say was probably a lie, as much as it pained her. During this part of her life, she'd been so far gone that she hurting Andie or her family had been a distinct possibility. Anger soared through her, no longer aimed at Cissy, but rather at herself and the person she used to be. She closed her eyes and counted to ten: it had taken years of therapy to even start to deal with her self-loathing. And after all of this was done, she'd have one hell of a story to share with her therapist.

For now, the focus and breathing techniques she had been taught did their job and Bellatrix slowly sat down again, Cissy's wand still aimed at her. "You fear the sister you once loved?" replied Bellatrix, pathos in her voice.

Cissy seemed to calm down a little, but refused to put down her wand. "Do you blame me?!"

"I suppose not. The masked figure who intruded on your home and took Bellatrix and the girl from the forest. That was me," said Bellatrix, putting her cards on the table.

"You?" Cissy gave her an incredulous look. "The mysterious vigilante who is driving the Dark Lord barmy is you? How?"

Bellatrix smiled. "Ever wondered how I got into the manor in the first place? I am a trusted family member. The gate simply let me pass by without trouble."

"But I saw you… both of you... dueling," Cissy said, finally putting her wand down. "How can there be two of you as the same time?"

Bellatrix smirked. "When there's two of us in the same time-line," she said, putting her photograph on the table and sliding it towards her. Cissy took the photograph and studied it carefully, eyes growing wide when she realized just what she was looking at.

"Is that the girl from the forest?" asked Cissy.

Bellatrix nodded. "Her name is Hermione Black. My wife. Those are Rigel and Lydia, our children. That's my family in 2019."

"Merlin..." Cissy whispered. "I need to..."

"Of course."

Coming from a world of deception and treachery, Narcissa was asking to look directly in Bellatrix' mind. The dark witch allowed this, but was careful to close off other parts of her mind as tight as a Scotman's coinpurse. If Cissy managed to learn whom the Death Eater defectors were going to be, or even that there _would_ be defectors, it could risk everything she had worked for and, worse, put Cissy in grave danger. So Bellatrix put happy family memories on the forefront and pushed all the cloak-and-dagger stuff as far into the back of her mind as it could go. Apparently, the images of her and her family were acceptable enough to Cissy to take it for truth.

"Why come to me? Why now?" Cissy asked. "Does Andie know?"

"She does," said Bellatrix. "And I had to contact you."

"Why not come to me sooner?" Cissy asked. "If you've been here for a year already."

Bellatrix shook her head. "In our future, the Dark Lord lost the wizarding war. It is vital that history takes place exactly as it was recorded. With my experience now, I highly suspect time is immutable, but I didn't know that when I first came here... and I'm still not entirely sure to be honest. I had to stick to a carefully crafted plan. I'm sorry and it was painful for me too, but it had to be done."

Cissy nodded, accepting the logic for what it was.

"I know you want out," said Bellatrix, causing a brief moment of panic for Cissy. "I know you want Draco to be safe. I know you want Lucius to be safe. If you do exactly as I say, we can made sure that happens."

"Why should I trust you?" Cissy narrowed her eyes. "Lucius has suffered at the Dark Lord's hands because of your antics. He was punished so severely that he spent days talking to people who weren't there. After all that pain, he was demoted to the lowest of ranks, barely keeping his Death Eater status. He ranks below bloody Fenrir Greyback now and he's crushed by it."

"I'm sorry. But it had to happen," replied Bellatrix. "He had to see what the Dark Lord is capable of."

"I am certain he will choose for his family, especially now. I don't dare tell him to do so, though," said Cissy. "He's desperate to regain the Dark Lord's favor."

"For now, just play along. But make sure he still goes to work at the Ministry every single day. He needs to be there when it happens."

"When what happens?"

"You'll see. But it's vital. If he's not at the Ministry when it happens, he will never leave Azkaban," Bellatrix pressed.

"I'll make sure," Cissy replied softly, but then couldn't help but laugh

"What?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow

Cissy chuckled. "Just... thinking about you. You of all people, marrying a mudblood and starting a family with her. It's a bizarre though."

Bellatrix smirked. "Oh, trust me, you and Hermione are going to get along fine."

"I hope you're right. For all our sakes."

Bellatrix reached out to hold Cissy's hands. "We are the Black sisters. We look out for each other. That's something I haven't done for a long time."

"I like the idea that the three of us could be like we were before," said Cissy. "Before all this mess. For what it's worth, Bella, I'm sorry I didn't put up more of a fight before we went to that Knight of Walpurgis rally."

Bellatrix shook her head. "Not your fault. If it hadn't been that rally, it would have been something else."

Cissy smiled briefly, but didn't seem too sure of that.

"I know I don't have any right of asking, but I need you to do me a favor," said Bellatrix.

"Anything within my power," said Cissy. "How can I help?"

"Do you still have your contacts with the Daily Prophet? I want you to leak some things to the press. Act the indignant self-righteous pure-blood paragon," Bellatrix winked. "You're good at that."

"What do you want me to do, exactly?" Cissy asked, looking at her warily.

Bellatrix could only grin. "I want you to rat me out."


	12. Self-supporting

It was almost midday when Bellatrix and Hermione were deposited at the bus stop in the high street of Banchory, a quaint little muggle township in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. This was the town where Hermione's grandmother had lived and a place she had visited plenty so times that she knew it like the back of her hand.

Banchory was a typical Scottish town, housing some 8000 inhabitants. Big enough to have all the comforts and amenities, but small enough to be quiet and green. Though the town was surrounded by the rural, hilly countryside, the skittish Bellatrix didn't really care much for any of that as Hermione led her through the town's winding roads.

Hermione knew for a fact that there was a small wizarding community of about thirty people living among the muggles, so she avoided the high street as much as possible and instructed Bellatrix to keep her hood up. After all, they were sure to recognize an infamous witch like Bellatrix Lestrange which could cause both of them no end of trouble. Death Eaters weren't particularly popular in Scotland and wizards in Scotland were too scattered and aside from Hogwarts, Voldemort didn't have much of a foothold up north. Hermione was certain it was only a matter of time before they did, though.

Hermione's nan had lived on the other side of the river Dee, close to the fields and woods beyond at the very edge of town. After crossing the bridge, the feeling of peace and tranquility mixed with melancholy as she passed the town park: she'd spent a lot of hours of the morning reading there in the summer.

After a few more minutes of walking, nan's house finally came in sight and Hermione was immediately struck with a sense of relief and homecoming. A two story stone cottage, surrounded by a waist-high stone wall, loomed in the distance. Surrounded by a garden, it made a rather picturesque image. It was a house which would look lovely on a postcard. It was unique in a way, that it was built around a large central chimney, which meant there were fireplaces in almost every room. Whenever Hermione had stayed here in winter, she always loved to read by the fire in the guestroom.

She smiled to herself: her nan never had guests other than her voracious reader of a granddaughter, so she had been allowed to decorate the guest bedroom the way she had wanted to. This house had become a second home to her.

A more recent addition to the outside of the home was a wooden deck around the back, which made for great viewing and relaxing of the surrounding fields and woods. Sadly, the weather wasn't right for relaxing outside at the moment.

The two witches moved into the yard and Hermione told Bellatrix to be careful. One of the neighbors living in nan's street further along the road was a muggle-born pensioner named Duncan Brodie. Now she knew Duncan to be a nice old man and his sensibilities would not lie with the current state of wizarding government, but having Bellatrix Lestrange around would be hard to explain. As much as she'd love to see Duncan, it was best to avoid any questions for now.

' _Lydia McEwan_ ', read a sign on the door.

"Hm," Bellatrix muttered. "Mother or father's side?"

"Mother," said Hermione. "My mum moved to England to go to university and met my dad there. He was from London and my nan didn't approve. Too 'English', she always said. Nan always tried to get me to appreciate my Scottish heritage more."

"Sounds familiar," Bellatrix chuckled. "My grandfather didn't approve of my mother. She was a Rosier and there were some questions about the purity of the Rosier bloodline and a number of squibs in their pedigree. And my mum never heard the end of it. Even though she bore the name 'Black', she was always considered an outsider."

"Uhm," said Hermione. "That's a little bit different."

"Is it?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Dilution of culture can be just as devastating as dilution of bloodline. Though I suppose you're right. Culture can be taught, but blood is tainted forever."

Hermione wasn't really in the mood to get into a debate about eugenics with a purity-supremacist at the moment, and she knew for a fact that her grandmother had some very strong ideas about preserving Scottish heritage, including some rather outmoded ideas about foreigners. In some ways, she and Bellatrix would have gotten along just fine.

A frightening thought.

"Right," said Hermione as she started looking around the front-garden. "If I know nan, she'll have hidden a key under one of the flower pots. If you check that side, I'll look over here."

Just as Hermione was about to take off to search, Bellatrix simply raised her hand and made a turning motion. At the same time, a 'snick' sounded from the front door, prompting the dark witch to push it open. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow and flashed her a mocking pout, as if to say 'You're a witch. Act like one'.

Properly admonished and somewhat embarrassed, Hermione led the way inside with the dark witch following her.

The house was just as she remembered. A cozy living room with two sofas set around the fireplace and an ancient television set. Dotted with art from the Scottish highlands, a faithful reproduction of Sir Edwin Landseer's 'Monarch of the Glen' prominently displayed above the largest sofa. A writing desk and various bookcases stood next to a more recently installed sliding door leading to the deck outside, which gave the living room plenty of natural light. The kitchen was beyond a stone arch next to the large fireplace.

For the first time since ages, Hermione felt safe enough to allow herself to relax somewhat.

Of course, the house hadn't been lived in for almost a year, meaning there were plenty of dust and cobwebs about. Hermione would have to see about doing some cleaning later.

She supposed that, technically, she was the owner of the house now by inheritance as her grandmother had left it to her in her will after she died, but there hadn't been time to deal with all the paperwork. Visiting a notary and dealing with the transfer of ownership and death duties simply hadn't seemed all that important in the grand scope of things at the time.

Upstairs were the bathroom and two bedrooms, the larger one belonging to nan, the smaller one being the guestroom. Or rather, Hermione's unofficial room and it showed. Unlike the average room for a teenage girl, this room didn't have any posters of bands or films. Rather, the walls were lined with cases filled with nooks and crannies for Hermione to store books and objects. A large writing desk was next to a study nook, which was in turn right next to the fireplace. The study nook was basically a beanbag chair for her to sit back and relax in while reading. There was barely room for the small wardrobe which now contained perhaps the room's greatest treasure.

Clean clothes.

It was amazing in itself to finally have a fresh set of clothes. Having often spent time with her nan in the summer, she had sets of clothing lain out in the spare room she'd always stay in. They were an old pair of jeans, old shirts and jumpers, but right now it felt like wearable heaven. Especially the clean underwear.

She expected Bellatrix and her nan to have roughly the same size of clothing. No doubt there was something in nan's closet which would fit her. Leaving Bellatrix to search through her nan's clothing upstairs, Hermione did a quick check of the kitchen and found nothing particularly edible left aside from a can or two.

This wasn't strange, considering this place had basically abandoned for a year. Still, there was some cash money in a secret compartment of her nan's desk and some cans of soup which weren't past their expiration date yet. She'd have to hit Morrison's tomorrow, but for now the canned soup would do just fine for an evening meal. A quick flick of a switch confirmed that the electric stove still worked and the electricity hadn't been disconnected. The kitchen also contained the thermostat. Hermione chuckled when she remembered the fierce debate she had had with her nan about the merits of central heating, a debate which she had eventually won. She adjusted the slider and the pipes of the system started ticking. The house would heat up nicely soon.

She had just put the cans of soup on the kitchen counter when she heard a purring voice.

"You are looking quite fresh, muddy," sounded behind her. Hermione turned around, only for her jaw to drop to the floor. Bellatrix was stood in the doorframe wearing an honest-to-god black evening gown. A mess of dark curls spilled over her bare shoulders, the gown being held up by two black straps. The gown hugged her body tightly around her waist, a long slit on the side revealing a rather shapely leg. And then there was the cleavage on display: two lovely breasts straining against the fabric.

"W-why are you wearing that?" Hermione stammered.

Bellatrix shrugged. "It's a perfect fit," she stated. "And it's the only thing in the closet that isn't granny clothing or walker's wear... and we've done quite enough of that."

"You're just going to wear an evening gown during the day?" Hermione asked.

"And this!" Bellatrix triumphantly held up a long black trenchcoat, slipping it on for good measure. If Hermione's throat hadn't gone dry before, it certainly would now. Bellatrix made a striking, powerful and beautiful figure. For her part, Bellatrix seemed quite pleased with herself. Then there was, of course, the question why her nan would have such an evening gown in her closet to begin with. Obviously, she'd had some hidden depths.

"I… I don't think that's appropriate," gulped Hermione.

Bellatrix mock pouted. "Well, you don't seem to mind all that much," Bellatrix challenged. "Eyes are up here, my little mudpet."

Hermione blushed and quickly looked away. "Well," she muttered. "At least we've both found a fresh set of clothes."

Even though she wasn't looking at her, Hermione could just feel Bellatrix's smirk.

It took her a few moments to recover and for the blood which had rushed to her face to be re-absorbed by the rest of her body. When returning to the living room, she found the dark witch lounging on the sofa leafing through one of her nan's scrapbooks. Hermione almost gulped again when she took in the sight of the dark witch's exposed leg. The woman was dangerous and attractive, certainly... or was that dangerously attractive?

"Quaint little place," said Bellatrix without looking up. "Very muggle."

"My parents would probably have wanted to sell it," said Hermione. "Maybe that's why nan left it to me. I don't think I could. So many memories."

"Hm," replied Bellatrix, still looking through the scrapbook. "My childhood home, the Black manor, is no longer in my family. It befell to Cissy and that useless layabout of a husband of hers sold it. I can't even buy it back, because it was torn down to make place for a sodding tenement building of all things. I have so many good memories of time spent with my sisters tied to that place. And to know it's gone..."

There was a melancholy on the dark witch's voice, something she quite understood. Hermione looked around, taking in the house. She could live here. In fact, she had planned to do just that after the war. It would be easy to have a floo set up and the house was just the right size for her. Quiet. Peaceful. Far away from war or politics.

Hermione would have to start a fire later: sure, it wasn't needed because the central heating was already doing its thing, but it would create a nice romantic atmosphere at least.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Romantic?

Where had that come from?

Instead, she decided to do some much needed cleaning and didn't bother to ask or inform Bellatrix of this. The dark witch was happily lounging on the sofa like a purring cat and would no doubt tell her to get lost if she'd ask for her help anyway. She opened the cabinet under the stairs to fetch the hoover, plugged it in and turned it on to get to work.

Almost immediately, there was a loud shriek. Hermione looked up to find Bellatrix effectively hiding behind the sofa, her head popping up from the side. The young witch gave her a puzzled glance and turned off the hoover.

"What..." Bellatrix hissed. "Is... _THAT_?!"

Hermione frowned and pointed at the machine. "This?"

"Yes! THAT!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, it's just the hoover," Hermione said. "You use it to clean dust off floors. Think of it as a mechanical scourgify spell."

"Nothing," Bellatrix grit her teeth. "And I do mean _nothing_ is supposed to make a sound like that! It's like something straight out a nightmare! It sounds like a dementor with a head cold!"

"I assure you, it's completely harmless," Hermione shrugged. "Look, it's perfectly safe. I'm right next to it and it hasn't eaten my soul or anything."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I suggest you don't mock me, muddy, or you will suffer the consequences!" she glowered. "And next time, give a poor witch a fair bit of warning before you use any of your muggle devices. I'm liable to jump right out of my skin."

"You seem to enjoy muggle central heating well enough," Hermione replied.

"That doesn't make a noise like that!"

After giving the dark witch a few moments to recover from her fright, Hermione continued her hoovering. Though the dark witch seemed wary and had a tendency to flinch whenever she moved the hoover in her general direction, she finished cleaning the living room and the kitchen without further incident. She'd rather not drag the hoover upstairs at that point in time, so she replaced it in the cupboard under the stairs.

Bellatrix was visibly at ease now that the hoover was gone, and Hermione made a mental note not to use the mixer, the juicer or the washing machine without warning her skittish traveling companion up front. The next thing to do was to light a nice cozy fire. Thankfully, there were plenty of dry blocks of wood next to the fireplace and a lighter block in the kitchen.

Just as she was about to light the fire, her eyes drifted over to the many photographs. The photos on the mantelpiece were mostly of herself and her grandmother, taken during the weeks in summer she had stayed with her. Pictures of them out hiking in the mountains, in the city or generally enjoying themselves at the coast. Hermione had always been close with her grandmother, even though they saw each other less and less after attending Hogwarts. Her nan had always encouraged her to be the best she could be without sacrificing who she was. It was her nan whom had given her the books which instilled in her the love for the written word and had played a large role in shaping her life.

Hermione had planned to spend several weeks with her nan last summer, but Voldemort's take-over of the Ministry had thrown a wrench in that. She'd promised herself she'd spend time with her nan after. She thought there'd still be time. But then her nan passed away so unexpectedly.

Perhaps that was the worst Voldemort had done to her: he had cost her the last precious days she could have spent with her grandmother.

The tumultuous time at the start of the school year, charming her parents' memories and going on the run meant that there simply hadn't been time to properly mourn. Now that she was in her grandmother's house, surrounded by her things and seeing the photographs of some of her fondest memories, it all came crushing down upon her all at once.

First, her shoulders started to a shake and the first sobs came. It didn't take long for tears to streak over her cheeks. And once they came, they never stopped. The weight of the crushing sense of loss only grew heavier with every tear falling.

She almost didn't feel it at first, when two two arms wrapped around her. A warm body pressed against her back and soft curls tickled her ear as Bellatrix parked her chin on her shoulder. Bellatrix said nothing and, really, she didn't have to, as she held her silently and tightly.

And, proving to her that wonders would indeed never cease, it made Hermione feel safe and comforted.

Though her tears, Hermione smiled and turned around in the embrace. The two witches faced each other, Hermione's arms folding around Bellatrix, one hand rising over her back to her dark curly mane. For a moment, they gazed into each other's eyes. Bellatrix's eyes, two dark pools she could forever drown in, were soft and welcoming, brimming with understanding. Bellatrix knew what loss meant, having dealt with it many times before.

Hermione wondered if there'd been someone to hold her when these moments had come for Bellatrix, but realized she probably wouldn't like the answer to that question. Still, that didn't change the fact that Bellatrix was here for her right now, when she needed it the most.

Hermione couldn't resist. It was almost as if she was on auto-pilot as she tilted her head slightly and craned her neck forward: she gently pressed her lips on hers. Soft at first. Chaste.

But when the fire inside of her started roaring, Hermione became more daring. Like the way Bellatrix had kissed her back in the tent scant a few days ago, Hermione became more forceful. She parted Bellatrix's lips with her tongue and started to explore her mouth. Their tongues touched and their magic connected on the most primal of levels.

She felt herself go weak in the knees as the sensations threatened to overcome her. Soft. Gentle. Loving. Three words she would have never associated with Bellatrix Lestrange ever.

When they finally broke the kiss, Hermione closed her eyes as the two witches pressed their foreheads together. A few sobs still came, but for the most part Hermione felt comfortable and safe.

"I…" Hermione stammered. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Muddy," spoke Bellatrix with a self-satisfied smirk. "I _know_ I'm falling in love with you."

* * *

Bellatrix had just fetched her midday meal, which was take-away plate of fish and chips she had picked up from the Kingfisher, a local chippy down the street. Not exactly healthy, but sometimes she felt like she should indulge herself. It was still hot and the smells coming from the bag were certainly delicious enough.

When she unlocked the front door to Mrs. Hawthorne's home, she was surprised to see a man around his forties standing in the hallway talking to her. Next to him stood a blonde little girl, looking to be three or four years of age. Bellatrix held back a little and observed the three for a moment. Mrs. Hawthorne, the poor dear, was subtly trying to convince her son to stay a while longer and maybe visit more often. Her son, while friendly enough, claimed work was being murder at the moment.

The first person to spot Bellatrix was the little girl. The dark witch made sure none of the elders while looking while folding her hand open and letting her magic flow, causing some sparkles to appear from her finger tips.

The girl's eyes grew wide and Bellatrix quickly put a finger to her lips. The girl was quick to understand and remained silent.

"Ah, dearrie, there you are," the elderly lady spoke. Her son turned his head and gave her a polite nod. "Your sister dropped by this morning while you were out and left a package for you. I shall go get it."

Mrs. Hawthorne went into the living room to fetch the package and Bellatrix took her chance the moment the son turned around. Quick as a flash, she jabbed the tip of her wand against his neck and whispered her spell. Instantly, the man went a bit numb. "You're a single father and you're working hard after your wife took off. I get that. But you're not in this alone and you're not the only lonely person in this family. Swallow your pride and let your mum help. For Merlin's sake, visit more often!"

Next to them, the little girl giggled. The man snapped out of it just as Mrs. Hawthorne returned with a sealed cardboard envelope in hand. "Here you are, dearrie," she said.

"Mum," said the man. "I think we will stay a bit longer today. Would you like that, Fiona?"

The little girl called Fiona nodded vigorously while it was hard to miss the fact that Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes went slightly watery. Bellatrix took her leave to head up the stairs, but not before looking down one last time to see Fiona standing at the bottom of the stairs. The little girl smiled and waved at her before running back into the living room.

In her room, Bellatrix sat down at her table and unpacked both her food and the envelope containing the thing she had asked for: the Daily Prophet. As she put a chip in her mouth, she unfolded the paper and was delighted to see that she was, in fact, front page news. There was a photograph of her younger self: not exactly a flattering one. And the text of the article was even less flattering.

" _ **SHOCKER: BELLATRIX LESTRANGE REVEALED TO BE A BLOOD TRAITOR!**_

_It has been barely a week since the daring attack on Malfoy Manor, which had led to Bellatrix Lestrange's subsequent kidnapping by an unknown assailant, along with one of the mudblood prisoners._

_In a shocking development, evidence has come to light which indicates that Bellatrix Lestrange has orchestrated this kidnapping herself along with an accomplice who is, at the time of writing, still unknown. Witnesses claim to have seen Bellatrix Lestrange at Gringotts where she withdrew a large sum of money from her vault. Further testimony from two of the Dark Lord's agents indicate that she and the mudblood prisoner were seen traveling together and that Bellatrix Lestrange engaged in violence against the agents when approached. After speaking to a source close to Bellatrix Lestrange, it is now believed that the mudblood prisoner has, in fact, been Bellatrix Lestrange's hidden mistress for an undisclosed amount of time._

_This newspaper has learned from the same source that said mudblood prisoner is, in fact, one Hermione Granger, a known accomplice of undesirable number one. It is believed that Bellatrix Lestrange and Hermione Granger will either attempt to flee the country or defect to the anarchist forces threatening our beloved wizarding world to the core._

_It is a testament to the seductive power of corrupted blood that Bellatrix Lestrange, long believed to be the Dark Lord's most loyal and devoted follower, has fallen so deeply and further proof that vigilance must be eternal, even towards those who are believed to be most loyal._

_Both Bellatrix Lestrange and Hermione Granger are considered to be armed and dangerous. For your own safety, it is advised not to approach either of them under any circumstances, but to inform your local constabulary immediately if seen in your vicinity._

_The Ministry has offered a 10.000 galleon reward, along with the Dark Lord's personal gratitude, for information leading to the capture or death of either one of these two witches._ "

Bellatrix let out a chuckle: Cissy had really outdone herself. It was a good thing Andie had picked up this newspaper for her, as she wouldn't exactly be safe anymore in the wizarding world.

Not that she ever had been. But both sides would be hunting for her right now.

This was it. This was the article which would make waves in both camps and lead to a lot of tongues wagging. Speculation of defection on either side would follow. Hermione would be come just as suspect in the eyes of the Order as Bellatrix would be to her fellow Death Eaters.

And, all of this would drive the Dark Lord even further around the bend.

The dark witch let out a brief sigh before popping a piece of fish in her mouth. Things would be coming to a head soon. The moment she'd been working towards, where all her efforts of the past year had been focused on.

Best of all, her younger self now had no recourse but to go forward. There was no turning back to the Dark Lord and she would know this. If anything, it would help her to dive straight into Hermione's arms.

Bellatrix tried to remember: they must have arrived at Hermione's grandmother's house by now, which had been such an important turning point in both their lives. She looked at the chart pinned to the wall: most events had been crossed out, leaving only few but pivotal events.

Everything was going exactly according to plan.

She _would_ have her future.

She _would_ have her happy ending.

Even if she'd have to drag her foolish, demented younger self to her happy future kicking and screaming.


	13. Self-serving

Tonight, Hermione had decided to sleep in the guestroom and left her grandmother's bed for Bellatrix to sleep in. She simply felt more comfortable sleeping in this room: here, in this room which has basically been hers, she could forget about the war, about Voldemort, about the entire wizarding world even... and just be Hermione. Even if it was just for a couple of hours.

She'd spent some time reading before bed and after putting away her book almost immediately drifted off into dreamland. The bed was soft, welcoming. Somewhere during the night, there was a slight disturbance during her slumber, but seeing it was still dark and Hermione was very tired, she paid it no mind at all and closed her eyes again.

The source of the disturbance didn't become clear until she opened her eyes again much later, when the light of the sun came pouring through the window. Hermione was nice and warm underneath the duvet and that same amazing boneless feeling she'd had at the pub had overcome her. The reason for it became clear when she became aware of two arms surrounding her waist and a body pressing against her.

Bellatrix, clad in one of her nan's nightshifts, must have snuck in somewhere during the night and had cuddled up against her. The dark witch was still sleeping peacefully, a mess of dark curls spilling over the pillow and her shoulder. The young witch couldn't help but smile and lay there for a moment, simply enjoying the peace and quiet. Then, ever so carefully, Hermione reached her hand over and gently, slowly ran her hand through Bellatrix's curls.

For a moment, she was afraid that the dark witch would start awake and fly into a tantrum. But it never happened. She was amazed just how soft those dark curls were. Bellatrix stirred slightly in her deep slumber, apparently enjoying the sensations. Though the bed was smaller than that of her nan, it did fit two, albeit in a little cozy way. Truth be told, if Hermione had decided to light the fireplace, this would be a truly perfect moment.

Love was a curious thing. It could strike when least expected, and move in ways so mysterious it defied logic. Some two weeks ago, she was so certain she liked Ron. And now she was lying in an undeniable loving embrace with Bellatrix Lestrange of all people. If the elder Bellatrix was to be believed, they would be married in the near future and will have two children together. The thought was still surreal but certainly seemed far more comfortable in moments like these.

Memories came flowing back.

That kiss.

She wanted to lay there for a bit longer, simply enjoying the moment. Still, if they wanted to eat today, she'd have to make the trip to Morrisons. Hermione had a silly idea: perhaps she could surprise Bellatrix with breakfast in bed today. They way Bellatrix was sleeping, she doubted that she would wake soon.

Hermione carefully, very carefully, disentangled herself from Bellatrix. The older witch slid forward to grasp the escaping Hermione and rolled onto her stomach, smushing her face into the pillow but remaining fast asleep nonetheless.

Just in case Bellatrix would wake up while she was away, Hermione scribbled a quick note to tell her she'd gone around the shops and placed it next to Bellatrix on the pillow. No doubt the dark witch would throw a fit otherwise.

Hermione got dressed, put on her coat and was about to go outside to head to the shop when, to her surprise, the front door bell rang. For a moment she paused, debating with herself if she should indeed open the door: the house had been abandoned for over a year and nobody knew she was here. What reason would anyone have to ring the doorbell?

The doorbell rang again. Whomever was standing in front of the door wasn't leaving.

Carefully, Hermione crept to the door and slowly opened it. Relief washed over it when on the other side was stood none other than Duncan Brodie. Duncan was a 120-year old rather jovial wizard who could easily pass for a sprightly 70-year old. Gray hair and short beard and wearing a tweed bunnet, he dressed indistinguishable from other muggles. A pleasant bark sounded from a shaggy black Scottish terrier on a lead.

"Oh my, Hermione," he greeted with a thick Scottish accent. "I was hoping it was you. I swear, I haven't seen you for ages, bairn."

"Duncan," Hermione greeted warmly, taking a step forward to embrace the old man "It's so good to see you. And hello there Ainsley."

Hermione bent down to pat Duncan's ancient Scottie dog on the head. "How old is Ainsley now?"

"A fifteen year old crusty curmudgeon of a dog," smiled Duncan. "Blind as a bat, missing half his teeth and I often have to carry him home, but he's still kicking."

Hermione smiled as memories came flooding back. Duncan had often come to visit whenever she had stayed with her nan and she had often played with Ainsley when she'd been a little girl while Duncan told her all manner of interesting folk tales and history of the Scottish highlands. When it was revealed that Hermione was, in fact, a magical child, Duncan had been delighted to tell her that he had always known and was a wizard himself. It was he whom had given her her first introduction to the wizarding world. He had taken her wand-shopping, taught her her first spell and pointed her in the right direction to start learning about this strange new world she had found herself in. She owed Duncan a lot.

"Good lord, you've gotten so tall! I still remember that wee lass you were when you could barely stand as tall as my knee," said Duncan. "I hoped it was you who was staying at Lydia's house. I saw a light on last night when I went out to walk Ainsley."

"Yes," said Hermione, finding no reason to lie. "After my nan died, I hardly had any time to simply... stand still and think. Or mourn."

"I know what you mean," said Duncan, his tone growing more serious. "Down south isn't a good place to be a muggle-born these days. They've left us alone for the most part, but I fear that won't last. Worst thing about is how it's tearing our world apart. Death Eater lapdogs running the Ministry right now got us normal folks turning on each other for the barmiest of reasons."

Hermione nodded. "I'll never forgive myself for not being able to attend nan's funeral."

Duncan smiled. "You're a good lass, Hermione," said Duncan. "I knew Lydia well enough to know she wouldn't have wanted you take any unnecessary risks especially if she'd already passed on. We all realized what happening. I put a lily on her casket on your behalf, lass."

"Thanks Duncan," said Hermione. "I'm staying here with... a friend. I'd ask you to come in, but she's still sleeping."

"Ah, we shouldn't disturb her then. If she's anything like your nan, I wouldn't dare to! Another time," Duncan smiled. "Though you simply must stop by my house later to join me for a nip of Glencoyne. You're nineteen now, aren't you? That's old enough."

Hermione chuckled. "Hah, that never stopped you or my nan before. I was eight when nan first let me taste whiskey. My parents were so angry."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Scotch is in your blood, Hermione. Your parents should know better."

Hermione smiled, but her smile soon fell into a frown. "Duncan?" she asked with a serious tone of voice. "Should my friend and I be worried?"

Duncan bit his lip for a moment, scratching his chin in thought. "It's not for me to talk bad about my neighbors. Most folks you won't have to worry about, though, unless their backs are to the wall. Some others, some of the younger ones? Honestly, I don't know, Hermione. It's best to be on the safe side and stay inside as much as possible for now. For both you and your friend. Avoid the town. Nip into Morrisons if you must, but don't linger."

It was then that Hermione realized that Duncan knew. He realized she was in hiding. Still, she felt it was better not to tell him who Hermione's 'friend' sleeping upstairs really was. Better to ease him into it later if push came to shove.

"Why am I not surprised that Death Eaters are all sassenach bastards, the whole bloody lot of them," laughed Duncan. "Not a proper Scot among them, thank the lord. Now, look at the Order. Plenty of Scots among them, yes. As usual, the Scots will have to save England's sorry arse again."

That made Hermione laugh. But she gathered that was rather the point.

"Hermione," Duncan spoke softly. "If there is anything I can do to help you, don't hesitate to ask."

The young witch smiled and thanked him. After petting Ainsley one more time, she said goodbye to Duncan and heeded his words: it was still relatively early in the morning and Morrisons would open in scant five minutes. Few people were in at opening time and the chances of running into someone whom would recognize her as a witch was minimal.

Morrisons wasn't all that far, but she's still have to walk past the park, cross the bridge and head a bit into town. She arrived there quickly enough, walking brusquely as she did.

The local Morrisons was the usual kinda ofsupermarket found in mid-sized towns. Hermione got herself a shopping cart from the parking lot, headed inside and loaded in products as she passed the different aisles. Nothing was special about this supermarket with one rather major exception: Morrisons sold wizarding products. This had caused a bit of a controversy some five years ago; very convenient for wizards and witches living among muggles in the countryside, but shopkeepers in wizarding quarters of larger cities were less enthused by what they considered unfair competition. Eventually, the Wizengamot got involved declared the selling of wizarding products at a muggle supermarket legal as long as certain protections were in place.

The single aisle containing wizarding products was hidden in plain sight with charms. Hidden away in a nook near the till, where muggles would see a wall a wizard would be able to enter the enchanted aisle to find all the items they could need. Then, at the till, the muggle staff would simply see the wizarding product as a regular grocery item while ringing it up. The enchantment was active only as far as the door, so wizards were still expected to be careful when leaving the store. There was even a sign above the door warning wizards to put their products in a paper bag before going outside, enchanted to look like an advertisement to muggles.

After doing her regular shopping, Hermione stepped into the wizarding aisle and let her eyes rove over the many magically enchanted candy, which made up over half the aisle. She loaded in a couple of fizzy lollipops and then pushed her cart forward to the meat products. Hermione figured Bellatrix might like some toba ham for breakfast today.

That was her shopping done and it had only taken her about twenty minutes. On her way to the till, Hermione walked past a freshly deposited stack of Daily Prophets. Nothing more than a corrupt propaganda tool for the Ministry, like it had always been, Hermione paid it little mind at first until a chance glance made her stop dead in her tracks.

Why was her picture on the front page?

She quickly picked a paper from the stack and, to her horror, let her eyes roam over the headline. Two photographs, one of her and one of Bellatrix, were printed right next to the story. Secret lovers? Fleeing the country? At first, she considered this rather blatant example of fake news to be rather amusing.

Until she came to the part of the article which said she was now a wanted witch with a 10.000 galleon price on her head.

Dead or alive.

Then it rather abruptly ceased being amusing.

Suddenly she felt like there were dozens of imagined eyes upon her, looking around the aisles. Her breath caught in her throat, she scanned the supermarket. There were only a few staff members there and a handful of customers, none of them near the wizarding product aisle. Still, she didn't want to push her look. She nabbed one of the papers and looked around skittishly for something that could hide her identity.

She found a large floppy brown hat and a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses and figured they would do the trick. Before she ran to the till, she rushed to another aisle and quickly tossed a few microwave dinners into her cart: certainly, they wouldn't be very tasty, but that would tide both her and Bellatrix over for a few days.

Of course, the spotty twerp behind the till took his sweet time to ring up her groceries. Her heart skipped a beat when the young man bleeped the paper until she remembered that the muggle lad wouldn't be able to see the paper for what it truly was. First thing Hermione did after loading her groceries in paper bags was to tuck her long brown hair into her coat, pull the large floppy hat over her head and put on the sunglasses. With the handles of four uncomfortably heavy bags cutting into the flesh of her hands, Hermione ran the gauntlet of the streets of Banchory in an attempt to get home as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to herself. Thankfully, most streets were still empty and she was able to avoid any and all pedestrians with relative ease.

The young witch had never been so relieved to be able to close a front door behind her. She dropped her bags onto the mat and pressed her back against the door, letting out a sigh of relief.

She was reasonably sure she hadn't been spotted. The only wizard who knew she was in town was Duncan and though she sincerely doubted he would turn her and Bellatrix in, but Hermione didn't want to take the risk with anyone else she didn't quite know. 10.000 galleons was a lot of money, after all. Enough temptation for any wizard if all they had to do was to make a quick floo call to the Ministry.

She made a mental note to draw the curtains of the living room windows and try to keep the lights off in the evenings to avoid detection.

Miracle above, Bellatrix still seemed to be asleep. Good. That would give Hermione some time to prepare. She sighed: instead of a planned romantic breakfast in bed, she'd have to ease the unpredictable dark witch into hearing some rather alarming news.

Hermione put away her groceries and started cooking. As expected, some ten minutes later, she sound of someone coming down the stairs sounded. Apparently, a certain someone was attracted to the smell of toba ham and eggs as it sizzled in the pan.

"Good morning sleepy-head," Hermione smiled as a rather gruff looking Bellatrix sat down at the breakfast table, looking rather comical wearing that evening gown so early in the morning.

"Is that toba ham?" Bellatrix asked, looking to be rather famished.

Together, they enjoyed their breakfast in relative silence at the kitchen table. The toba ham and eggs had come out rather well if Hermione said so herself, and Bellatrix seemed appreciative of the tea. It didn't take long, however, for the dark witch to narrow her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix glowered. "Something is off here, muddy. What aren't you telling me?"

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "There's no easy way to say this. Let me just show you what I found at the supermarket today."

Hermione stood up and motioned Bellatrix to follow her to the living room. Together they sat down on the sofa, where Hermione gave her the newspaper. She watched the dark witch carefully as she let her eyes rove over the headline and the story below. Bellatrix's eyes spread open almost impossibly wide. Her mouth fell open. Her lip started to quiver right before she ran a hand through her curly mane.

Hermione braced herself for the terrible fit of rage she was certain was about to come, but it never did. Bellatrix tossed the paper onto the table and merely sat back.

No anger. No rage. No tantrum.

Just quiet resignation.

"It's done, then," Bellatrix said, her voice a quiet whisper. "I've been declared a traitor. Funny. I thought I'd be more upset."

"Bella..."

"I can never return," sighed Bellatrix. "Not to the Dark Lord. Not to my family. Not to my fellow Death Eaters. I thought that maybe if I could explain to the Dark Lord that it is all a misunderstanding... but no, that will only lead with my death. And I do not wish to die a traitor."

"Where do you think this rumor came from?" said Hermione. "I mean, yeah, we kissed, but... nobody knew that besides us."

"This is that old bitch's doing, I'd stake my life on it," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "The old bitch claiming to be a future me, I mean. All of a sudden, two moronic snatchers turn up right when and where we left the sanctuary. That is no coincidence. It was undoubtedly her who put up a little performance at Gringotts. Likely, she was the one spreading the rumors of the two of us doing some clandestine shagging on the side too. I don't know if I should be respect her devious nature of if I should scratch her eyes out the next time I see her. Perhaps both!"

"It seems likely, yes," said Hermione. "And, well, we _are_ falling for each other, aren't we?"

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, muddy," Bellatrix admonished. "But fact remains, I do not wish to die a traitor and neither of us can return. Your side is reading the paper too, my little mudpet."

Hermione blinked. "Ron and Harry will never believe it!"

"So how will you explain us being together, hm?" Bellatrix smirked. "How do you explain us being all lovey-dovey and kissy-wissy? Besides, there'll be plenty of other Order members who'll be asking you some very difficult questions. No, muddy, you can't go back either. But I have another thought. Run away with me."

"Come again?"

"The article is mostly nonsense but they did have one good idea: Flee the country. Find another place to live," said Bellatrix. "Come with me, muddy."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't just run away."

"Why not? What's keeping you here?" Bellatrix smirked. "I have some connections left in the wizarding world. My family has some continental holdings and some caches of money hidden there. We could both live very comfortably."

Hermione shook her head. "And if the Dark Lord wins, then what?" she asked. "Will he just let go? Will he just leave us be?"

The dark witch pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. Once the war's been won, he'll be free to focus his attention to other, smaller matters. Such as hunting perceived traitors and their not-so-perceived mudblood lovers."

Hermione reached out and placed her hand on Bellatrix's shoulder. "We'll never be safe, Bella."

"Safe is boring," Bellatrix pouted.

"Oh, no, safe is nice," Hermione retorted. "Are we really going to stand by and let him destroy the wizarding world?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "That is up for debate, muddy!" she hissed.

"Nonsense!" Hermione grabbed her by the shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her about. "He's in it for himself. Can't you see that, Bella?"

For a moment, Bellatrix's eyes darkened with rage, but it passed as quickly as it came. "Regardless, him winning the war won't be good for you, muddy. But I can protect you. Protect us."

Hermione nodded. It was a good sign that she actually wanted to protect them, but would she even be able to? "Bella. Do you really want to be on the run for the rest of your life?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Been working out good so far."

"Has it?" replied Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

Bellatrix sighed in response. "I admit, there's been setbacks. But what do you expect me to do? March to my death in a futile struggle with the Dark Lord? Because _that_ 's how it's going to end up."

"I never said it'll be easy," Hermione smiled. "But we won't be alone."

Bellatrix bristled. "You want me to fight besides people who put me in that hellhole and will put me right back the moment my usefulness has passed?! Not a chance, muddy! Not a chance! I would rather die than go back!"

"Would you rather flee and do nothing?" said Hermione.

Bellatrix's head spanned towards her, eyes burning with rage. "I would rather just hate you! I would rather just crush you underneath my boot heel! I look at you and I see someone I am supposed to hate. But I simply can't, muddy. Try as I might just can't! I am disgusted by you and by myself and I hate myself for feeling both! When those two thugs attacked you I… I had to protect you. When they touched you I felt a rage I had never felt before. They were touching something that was mine, muddy," she whispered, reaching out to stroke Hermione's hair. Hermione's jaw stiffened a little when she felt eager fingers running through her brown tresses.

"For make no mistake. You… are… mine… I… I hate that I've been declared a traitor! I hate my bitch of an older self! I hate that I'm sat here in a fucking muggle's house! I even hate the Dark Lord for believing lies in the paper over my years.. _YEARS..._ of loyal service! I hate that I can't hate you! But you… you…"

She was looking at someone who was out of her depths, whose life had been turned upside down and had absolutely no idea what to do or how to deal with it. A proud pure-blood witch brought down by circumstances outside of her control. So vulnerable. So… human.

Finally, it happened. Bellatrix broke down. Tears started streaming over her cheeks as she doubled forward and buried her face in her hands as she wept. "Muddy," she sobbed. "You should have let me get mauled to death by the wyvern. That would have been far more merciful than this!"

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't hate Bellatrix either. She was well within her right to do so, as the older witch had abused her mentally and physically. Still, at the same time the same older witch had protected her more than once and she had seen the change in her over the past couple of days. Perhaps Hermione should focus on what could be, rather than what had been.

And like Bellatrix had done for her the day before, Hermione rushed forward to hold Bellatrix as she wept, clutching onto her tightly to give the dark witch some much needed comfort.

And like the day before, this comforting embrace ended in a loving and passionate kiss.

* * *

"Well, how does that look?" Andie asked Bellatrix as she had finished her work. And truly, her sister had outdone herself. Sat in front of the large mirror belonging to the dresser in Andie's bedroom at the Tonks residence, Bellatrix was staring at an uncanny resemblance of her younger self. She had always thought of herself as having aged beyond gracefully, but if she was about to pull off her plan, she'd have to look far less healthy than she did.

Her hair had been given a dye-job to hide the silver streaks as much as possible, and had been given a more wilder look with messes of unkempt curls dancing around her shoulders. A generous application of magical make-up made her face seem less full and a lot paler, using eye-shadow to simulate bags under her eyes. She should pass as her younger self effortlessly. Of course, she had before at the bank, but the people she was attempting to fool were her husband and his idiot brother, people whom had known her for years. So, it had been worth going that extra mile.

"Awful," said Bellatrix. "As it should be. You've really outdone yourself, Andie. You're sure this dye job isn't permanent?"

"Not to worry," said Andie. "The magic will wear off in a day or two."

"You've missed your calling as a beautician," said Bellatrix.

"I wouldn't exactly call you more beautiful, Bella," Andie laughed. "You look a bit ghoulish."

"You try spending fourteen years in Azkaban and see if you look as good as I do," Bellatrix winked.

Andie shrugged. "The point is made. I suppose anti-beautician is a better description. Is that even a word?"

"Make-up artist, then?" said Bellatrix. "You certainly picked up a lot of tricks doing our hair back in our teen years."

"You were a willing subject," said Andie. "Cissy never was. I hope she won't be too upset that I let you take my place."

"It'll pass," said Bellatrix. "Especially after the next couple of weeks. Things are about to get a lot better for our family, Andie."

"I'll take your word for it," she smiled.

Good. This was good. This was banter like in the old days. It heartened Bellatrix that she was on the right track to make sure history would unfold itself as it should.

"Maybe you should shriek," Andie suggested.

"Shriek?"

"Yes, you know. Like you… do."

"I actually haven't in ten years."

"Come on, Bella. Let's hear a shriek then."

Bellatrix cleared her throat and produced a shriek. Or what she considered to be a shriek: she opened her mouth and let forth a high-pitched roar. Afterwards, she turned to Andie who almost immediately gave her a disapproving look. "Bella, what the hell was that?"

"A… shriek…" Bellatrix frowned.

Andie groaned and shook her head. "That sounded more like a particularly naff crow's call. It lacked passion and bite. Whenever you shrieked when we were younger, it used to make me jump right out of my skin. You won't be able to fool anyone with a poor shriek like that."

"How about this?" asked Bella, after trying again. This time she tried put a bit more body into it.

"Good Circe," Andie sighed. "Are you trying to cheer on your favorite Quidditch team even though you already know they're going to lose the match? Because that's what it sounded like."

"Alright, alright, I haven't done this for ten years," Bellatrix muttered while rubbing her throat a bit. "My vocal chords aren't as used to it anymore."

"Try take in a deeper breath and release it from the diaphragm. A deep long exhale. Less arrrrr and more raaarrrgh. Longer a's and a more rolling rgh at the end. Try working a cackle in there," Andie suggested.

"Cackle," said Bellatrix. "Now that I can do."

Bellatrix tried again, this time following Andie's instruction and adding a deeper exhale and ending it on a cackle.

"Better!" said Andie. "Now again! Imagine Rodolphus is menacing at you with a wand and you're ready to take him down."

Another shriek followed, and for the first time in years, Bellatrix could recognize the sound of her own shrieks and cackles. It was decidedly odd.

"I can't believe I'm teaching you how to do your own signature shriek," Andie laughed to herself. "You really have changed."

"I like to think I've changed for the better," said Bellatrix.

"I think you've changed back into who you were when we were growing up," Andie replied. "It's probably more of a reset."

Bellatrix let out a sigh. "Andie, that won't happen overnight," she spoke softly. "Me... her... the younger me. There'll be some difficult times ahead for her. For all of us. Forgive her. Me..."

Andie reached over and squeezed her big sister's shoulders. "You keep asking that. And I keep telling you that I already have."

Bellatrix smiled at her and was about to recall a particularly funny memory where the three sisters were chasing Cissy's owl before it could deliver a love-letter to the wrong person, when there was a knock on the door. "Mum? Antie Bella?" sounded Dora on the other side of the door. "Are you slaughtering a bunch of cats up here? What's going on?"

Andie laughed for a moment. "We're fine, dear," she called out. "Bella and I will be downstairs in the moment."

A rather wary voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Alright. If you say so."

Bellatix and Andromeda shared a look and, after a few more final adjustments to her disguise, the two of them left the bedroom and headed down the stairs, where they found a rather gobsmacked Remus Lupin holding his little son. Today was actually the first time he had been able to see him, with the Order keeping him running ragged. Of course, when Bellatrix had first introduced herself, there'd been the usual recriminations, threats, strong-worded back and forths and all that good stuff. She supposed that was to be expected, but it was becoming a rather tiresome dance. Not to mention that there'd be plenty of times she was going to have to do that all over again several times in the near future.

The moment Bellatrix stepped into the room, Lupin instinctively pulled back to shield his newborn from her. The move annoyed her, but she supposed she should not blame him: he had been rather close to Sirius and she _had_ ended his life. That was an undeniable fact. He'd made it quite clear in a rather heated way that he did not trust her and that he would swear to end her if it turned out this was a ruse in any way.

So yes, the usual bollocks.

It was only through Andie and Nymphadora's insistence that Lupin had agreed to participate in her plan, though Bellatrix considered that the only reason her niece did so was because she wanted to claim a few Death Eater scalps after a few months of sitting on her hands.

"You look, uhm, well..." Dora bit her lip.

"Insane?" Lupin finished with a raised eyebrow. "Deranged? Murderous?"

"All those things, yes," Dora chuckled.

Andromeda crossed her arms and gave her a smug look. "See? I say I did rather well with my make-up job."

"Just make sure to turn me back later," Bellatrix chuckled.

"Into what?" Dora winked. "Slightly less deranged but still murderous? Not going to mention the insane part because, well, going back in time to wage guerrilla warfare is not exactly sane to begin with."

A glint appeared in Bellatrix's eye. "Don't push your luck, Dora. I'm still deadly as ever."

Almost immediately, Lupin's hand shot to his wand, causing Bellatrix to roll her eyes. "That was just banter, Lupin!" she sighed. "This is going to be a very boring evening if you can't even take some harmless banter."

"It's fine," said Dora as Andie took Teddy in her arms.

"Right," said Andie. "I'm going to take this little man upstairs for his manly little nap. Be careful, alright? All three of you. I expect you all back safe and sound."

"That all depends on Bellatrix," Lupin narrowed his eyes.

"Hah, if you even think you can take me!" Bellatrix challenged.

Nymphadora let out a heavy sigh. "Enough!" she replied. "Stop this wand-measuring contest and let's focus on the Lestrange brothers, alright? We're going to deal a massive blow to You-Know-Who tonight and I almost wish I could see his snake-y face when he gets the news."

Nymphadora Tonks the voice of reason? What has become of this world?

"Right," Bellatrix chuckled. "Ready to make me a widow?"

"We're going there to apprehend, Lestrange!" Lupin challenged. "Not to kill. We are not Death Eaters."

"It's Black," said Bellatrix with a slight growl on his voice, challenging him. "It has been Black for twenty years! And I know for a fact that we're going in for a kill. So don't hold back! Don't give quarter! Because my husband and his idiot brother certainly don't share your squeamishness towards murder! So if you don't want that little boy to grow up without a father, you'll keep that in mind!"

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "I'll take your word for it."

"Enough!" said Nymphadora. "I'm quite ready to kill my uncle. Isn't that right, auntie?"

Indeed. Nymphadora definitely had a bit of cheek in her. And that wouldn't change for the next twenty years either.


	14. Self-respect

For the whole day, Hermione had been decidedly paranoid. Deathly afraid that she might have been spotted in town, she'd been expecting Death Eaters to break down her door for the better part of the morning. She's also been particularly worried about a white van being parked in front of the house for an hour, until Bellatrix rather mockingly reminded her that Death Eaters wouldn't disguise themselves as muggle painters and certainly wouldn't arrive by means of a van.

When nothing happened and there was no sign of being discovered, she relaxed a little bit. Despite that, she had decided to set up some minor wards at the doors and windows she could do wandlessly so there was at least a bit of warning if the house were to be breached. One of the nicer things was when Bellatrix had decided to massage her shoulders a little bit to help her relax. ' _Muddy, you're tense and jittery and it's starting to annoy me_ ', she had said. Still, Hermione liked to think that the dark witch enjoyed doing a nice thing for her.

Thinking it was best to keep the lights off in the evenings, Hermione strolled into the living room to one of the oddest sights she had seen all day. Bellatrix had definitely been less concerned about being raided by Death Eaters and had generally been poking around the house with the curiosity of a young child.

One of the things she had discovered was her nan's television set. The dark witch was currently sat on the sofa in front of the tv screen, absolutely focused on what was happening with narrowed eyes and one raised eyebrow. With one hand in a bag of crisps, of course.

"Are… are you watching Emmerdale?" Hermione blinked, referring to a rather cringy ITV soap-opera about a group of people living in the English countryside.

"It's oddly fascinating," said Bellatrix. "It's like looking through a window into these muggles' lives."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Watching Bellatrix was like watching a cultural anthropologist observing the ways of a newly discovered Amazonian tribe. "And what have you learned?" she asked with genuine interest.

"That muggles' lives are a lot more complicated that I thought," said Bellatrix. "There's this girl called Alice whom is being bullied at school, but she's apparently kidnapped as a baby from another couple by her mother Jan. So there's this other woman called Kim who's taken out an injunction against her to keep her away from her son. This woman is apparently quite wealthy and is deciding if she should invest in the business of a man named Steve. Her solicitor is against it, but because she's a stupid muggle she does it anyway. Then there's Lyn and Scott, who wanted to go out on a date just as friends, but they end up shagging at the end of the evening."

Just as the credits started to roll, Hermione quickly turned off the TV, much to Bellatrix's protest. "Hey!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Benny Hill is coming up next!"

"It's getting dark and the TV is casting off a lot of light," Hermione pressed.

"The curtains are drawn!" Bellatrix protested.

"Do you really want to take that risk?" said Hermione with a rather huffy tone. "Do you want to risk us being discovered because you want to watch Benny bloody Hill?!"

"Stop being so paranoid, muddy," Bellatrix sighed. "It's starting to become unattractive."

"Well excuse me that our continued existence is a bit of a worry for me, alright?!" Hermione sighed as she plopped down on the sofa next to her.

Perhaps watching Benny Hill with Bellatrix could be something she needed. To be honest, she could use the distraction as Hermione was driving herself barmy with concern.

"First time you're a wanted witch, hm?" Bellatrix smirked.

"God, you did this for _years_?!" Hermione sighed and lay her head back onto the headrest.

Bellatrix shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

Life with Bellatrix was, at least, always interesting. She saw a lot of humor in dumb muggles doing dumb things, hence why she liked Benny Hill so much. Bellatrix loved to sit in nan's chair and nap next to the fire. And she appreciated even microwave dinners after suffering fourteen years of Azkaban slop, albeit with lots and lots of pepper; Bellatrix liked her food best when spicy.

God only knows what Bellatrix thought about life with her. Turning to her, Hermione saw that the dark witch had adopted a rather contemplative look as she seemed lost in thought for a moment.

"Something on your mind?" Hermione asked, shifting a little on the sofa to be able to look her in the eye.

"My older self for the most part," said Bellatrix. "I've been doing some thinking this morning. Haven't had much time to stop and think."

"Anything specific you were thinking about?"

"Her costume, the beak-shaped plague doctor mask," Bellatrix pursed her lips."There's been rumors I've heard from my fellow Death Eaters going back as far as last June. Rumors of a cloaked figure, always showing up when something goes wrong. A mission fails? There was a cloaked figure in the shadows. A group of snatchers disappears without a trace? Rumors of a cloaked figure being spotted in the distance. Important magical artifacts or documents simply gone, stolen in the night while nobody was supposed to know where they'd be. A witch targeted to be subjected to the imperius curse is suddenly warned ahead of time and disappears before the Death Eater ordered to curse her even arrives. I didn't think much of it at the time, some stories my fellows cooked up to cover up their own failures."

"But then you encountered her yourself," Hermione added.

"And that means she's been active for at least a year," nodded Bellatrix. "Actively sabotaging our efforts. You do realize what that means, muddy?"

"What?"

"I am not a traitor… yet," Bellatrix mused. "But I will become one. I will turn into that older version of me. Simpering. Weak. Pathetic."

"Is that how you see her?" said Hermione. "Because if what you say is true, she's been waging a one-woman war against the Dark Lord from the shadows and managed to get away with it for a whole year. That takes skill and dedication. Not to mention that she seemed quite nice."

"Perhaps. But that still doesn't make her any less of a muggle-loving blood traitor!" Bellatrix spat. "That she's 'nice' is even worse!"

"She was devious enough to frame us for treason," Hermione crossed her arms.

"There is at least that," said Bellatrix. "She's still Slytherin, I suppose. A small mercy. But the thought that I will eventually become her is beyond sickening."

"What's really bothering you?" asked Hermione. "It can't just be your older self. You already knew about her. She told you herself what and who she is."

Bellatrix let out a deep sigh. "The more I think about it, the more I'm forced to admit that at least some of the things the older version of me told us are true… and that means other things can be true as well. Particularly about the children we are supposed to have together…"

Hermione crossed her arms, offering her a little stern stare. "Mixed blood children? Is that your concern?"

"They would be half-bloods," said Bellatrix. "A dilution of the bloodline, but at least half-way acceptable. But no… the concern is that I might have children at all. I never want to have children again."

"I've heard you mention that before," Hermione asked.

Bellatrix' expression changed. Her intensity faded into a forlorn stare as she turned towards the window. The dark witch let out a heavy sigh before turning to Hermione to look at her for a moment, as if deciding if she was going to actually tell her something which was apparently deeply personal. Bellatrix apparently decided that Hermione had earned the right to know, as her expression turned deadly serious.

"I had a miscarriage," said Bellatrix in a pained voice which was almost a whisper.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione replied with sincerity.

"A pure-blood marriage is one of duty. It's a union of bloodlines, one of selective breeding. A child was expected and questions were being asked why I was yet to conceive after several years of marriage. I could mostly blame it on the work I was doing for the Dark Lord, but that only went so far," Bellatrix spoke as the fire crackled behind her. "I found out I was pregnant a few months after I lost Kezia," Bellatrix smiled to herself. "I was so happy. I could finally let go of the pain. I could finally stop those awful wifely duties with Rodolphus."

Bellatrix cast her eyes downward. "It was going to be a boy. A little boy. I was planning to name him Betelgeuse. Or Rigel. He would have been about your age now, if he had lived. Perhaps you would have met in Hogwarts. Perhaps studied together. Or played Quidditch together. Or ended up the duff by him because of your feminine mudblood whiles!"

Hermione blinked. "That escalated quickly..."

"The point is moot," Bellatrix's mood dropped again. "My child was murdered before he could draw breath. Potter thinks so highly of Sirius, but he's the rotter responsible for my little boy's death. I am not blameless and I will never deny that: I was three months pregnant and still going out on raids while I should have known better. During one of those raids, I had an encounter with Sirius. We dueled with zest, as per usual, but something was different that day. He was focused on me exclusively, separating me from the other Death Eaters and I was too enraged to see what he was doing at the time. Then he started blasting curses at me, targeting my belly. It only took one hit to blast through my barrier... and my child was dead. And after that, I simply had nothing left to lose..."

Hermione let out a heavy sigh and slowly reached out to take Bellatrix's hand to squeeze it tightly. At first the dark witch bristled: she was not one to be pitied, but soon enough accepted the sympathy for what it was. Hermione had always known that Sirius had had a dark side, as he was fond of saying himself the world was not easily divided between light and dark. But still, what he had done had been an undeniable malicious act.

"I avenged my little boy, though," Bellatrix chuckled. "It took me almost twenty years, but I made Sirius pay for what he's done."

"Bella," Hermione spoke softly. "Sirius. The Longbottoms. The cycle of hatred has to stop somewhere."

A darkness crept in Bellatrix's gaze. Anger crept in her voice. "So I should have just let it go?!"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "But do you really want a world run by Chicago mob rules? They put one of yours in the hospital, so you put one of theirs in the morgue?"

"Putting Sirius in the morgue was a good start!" Bellatrix snorted. "Sometimes I wonder how things could have been different. I look at Cissy and I see how much Draco means to her."

Hermione smiled. "The older you. She did this for her children, she said. She wants her children to be born."

"I... I understand her. I think," said Bellatrix. "But it's still my own choice and I do not want any more children! That is non-negotiable and that future bint can go get stuffed!"

Hermione nodded. "She _is_ you, you know?"

"That is yet to be determined!" Bellatrix said, rubbing her temples. "Temporal mechanics. It hurts my head."

"Maybe you should lie down for a bit," said Hermione. "No doubt the memories were painful."

"Muddy, would you read me from your book?" Bellatrix asked. "Perhaps it will help me relax."

And so Hermione and Bellatrix ended up lying on her grandmother's bed together, both of them relaxing a little after Hermione had found Thoreau in the rucksack and flipped through the pages. Bellatrix lay on her side, cuddled up against Hermione whom lay on her back. It was an odd feeling still, but quite nice.

"Should we start where we left off last?" Hermione asked as she flipped through the book, looking for the chapter she had last read to Bellatrix.

"I don't care, muddy," said Bellatrix. "I just want to listen to the sound of your voice. Start here."

Bellatrix thrust her finger into the pages and pointed out a random passage. Hermione cleared her throat and started to read out loud. " _Goose Pond, of small extent, is on my way to Flint's; Fair-Haven, an expansion of Concord River, said to contain some seventy acres, is a mile south-west; and White Pond, of about forty acres, is a mile and a half beyond Fair-Haven,_ " Hermione read.

Bellatrix had closed her eyes and purred a little. The sound made Hermione blush somewhat.

" _This is my lake country. These, with Concord River, are my water privileges; and night and day, year in year out, they grind such grist as I carry to them."_

Hermione could feel a hand on her belly, gently rubbing back and forth. Her breath quickened as she strained to keep reading.

" _Since the woodcutters, and the railroad, and I myself have profaned Walden, perhaps the most attractive, if not the most beautiful, of all our lakes, the gem of the woods, is White Pond;—a poor name from its commonness, whether derived from the remarkable purity of its waters or the color of its sands_."

The words caught in Hermione's throat when Bellatrix pulled the shirt from her trousers, exposing Hermione's belly while impossibly soft fingertips traced patterns around her belly-button.

"Bella?" Hermione asked, her breath catching in her throat. "W-what are you doing?"

"Ssssssshhh," Bellatrix let out a brief chuckle. And that grin she shot her. That sultry grin. The dark witch pounced upon her like a hungry panther, pinning her down by the legs while laying her chin on her belly. Dark curls slid over her skin, tickling her a little and sending a shudder through her entire body. "Just relax, my little mudpet. Relax and enjoy everything that's going to happen to you."

Her voice was a husk, a promise of Earthly delights of a magnitude she had never experienced before. Not to mention a very clear demand, meaning the dark witch was not going to take no for an answer.

Hermione swallowed hard. The word 'no' didn't even feature in her vocabulary right now. Two hands slid over her belly, forcing the hem of her shirt further upward. The scars became visible now and, for the first time, Hermione felt a bit self-conscious about them. Apparently her expression betrayed this, as the dark witch looked at her with a bit of a pout. "Oh, pish-posh, little muddy. Scars give character."

By now, the hem of her shirt had passed her bra, causing Hermione to blush further. "Take your shirt off," Bellatrix demanded. Hermione gulped and did so without question, raising the shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Satisfied with Hermione's compliance, Bellatrix sat up. Straddling Hermione, she started off by slowly shifting one of the straps of her black evening gown until it fell over her shoulder, shooting her that surly grin all the way there. Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest as the nightgown slowly fell down to bunch up around Bellatrix' waist. A slightly toned stomach, lovely porcelain skin and the most perfect and lovely pair of breasts she had ever seen.

God, why was she panting like this? She had already seen Bellatrix without her clothes on, back in the forest after she had taken a tumble into the river. But... not from this close. Not while Bellatrix was straddling her. Hermione tried to get her breathing under control, but failed miserably. She whimpered when Bellatrix bent forward and draped herself over her body, crushing her bare torso into hers.

Soft curls tickled her as hot skin pressed on hers, sliding over her as Bellatrix latched onto the nape of her neck for a bite. Hermione hissed as said bite was a little harder than she had expected it to be. It hurt, yet, but at the same time it excited her greatly. More kisses on her neck followed and Hermione felt Bellatrix's weight shift a little. Becoming a bit more daring herself, she carefully raised her arms and lay her hands on Bellatrix's sides, slowly sliding towards her back. Hermione swallowed hard... her skin was so soft.

Lips captured her earlobe and Hermione let out a moan when Bellatrix's tongue twirled around this soft bit of her flesh, only to be replaced with a hiss when the dark witch bit down a bit harder than she was comfortable with.

Bellatrix sat up, again straddling her. For the first time, Hermione noticed to her surprise that her bra was gone and her own breasts were exposed to the elements, nipples hardened already. Embarrassment overcame her when she saw the dark witch giving her some appreciative looks. Truth be told, Hermione had never considered herself a particularly pretty girl, nor was she striving to be one. That the dark witch appreciated her form renewed her confidence

With Bellatrix straddling her like that, those lovely breasts looked incredibly inviting. Hermione slowly raised her hands to reach out, only for the dark witch's expression to contort into one of rage. With the speed of a striking serpent, Bellatrix reared her hand and slapped Hermione right in the face, hard enough for the young witch to let out a yelp and raise a hand to her cheek to feel an ugly red welt forming.

"BAD MUDDY!" Bellatrix hissed. "Did I give you permission to touch me?! DID I?!"

Hermione, once again, swallowed hard. "Please... please... may I?"

A grin. A wicked, wicked grin. "You certainly may, little muddy."

Bellatrix grabbed both of Hermione's wrists and gently lay her hands on her breasts. A shudder went through her as soon as she touched the sheer softness. Bellatrix allowed her to touch her for a little while, before ripping away her hands again and robbing her of the pleasure. Hermione let out a strangled mew in protest before Bellatrix shifted again and playfully trailed a hand downward over her stomach. Ever downward.

Her lip trembled when she felt Bellatrix unbutton the front of her jeans. All sly seduction went flying at the window when the dark witch ripped the trousers down and gently ran her palm over the fabric of her knickers. "Hm," Bellatrix let out a throaty chuckle. "Already drenched."

Severely embarrassed, Hermione watched with baited breath as Bellatrix took a better position and worked off the knickers by sliding it down her legs along with her trousers. Sight unseen, she tried to gently kick them off so she could move her legs more freely. Bellatrix lay her head down on her stomach, mercilessly teasing her by trailing her fingers over her thighs, forcing her to part her legs slightly. Right then, Hermione was trying to stop herself from hyperventilating from anticipation. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

After a few more agonizing moments of teasing, two fingers finally found her wetness and took an agonizingly slow plunge. All she could hear was a throaty chuckle after she threw her head back and hissed as sensations of the best sort blasted her brain into numbness. Gently sliding back and forth, going ever deeper with every stroke, Bellatrix suddenly stopped.

Hermione closed her eyes before looking down to meet Bellatrix's eyes: the dark witch had discovered that she was a virgin.

Bellatrix for her part, looked very pleased with herself for a moment. Right before she pushed forth and took Hermione's virginity with one foul stroke. It hurt a little at first, but any pain was soon overshadowed by the mounting pleasure with every deepening stroke. Hermione threw her head back once more, with small cries produced from strained vocal chords. Another shudder went through her the moment she felt soft curls tickling her thighs. And when a soft and nimble tongue joined the fray, Hermione was completely and utterly lost.

She arched her back, one hand clutching onto the duvet while the other found Bellatrix's long dark curls. Hermione writhed the moment the sensations overwhelmed her beyond measures: Hermione was a healthy nineteen year old and of course she had pleasured herself before, but nothing could compare to this.

Fingers, lips and tongue gave her the sweetest of torture and she found that her stomach muscles were starting to tighten. Not yet, Hermione begged herself. Please, not yet. She didn't want it to end. She never wanted it to end. But Bellatrix was merciless.

Hermoine's legs kicked out, her mouth released a climactic scream from the very depths of her lungs and her vision faded. Release overcame and she found herself completely boneless on the bed, panting in exhaustion and unable to move.

The dark witch was upon her, clutching her head and pressing it to her chest while running her fingers through her hair. "There's a good muddy," she whispered softly and cruelly in her ear. "Good, good mudpet."

"B... Be... Bella..." Hermione managed.

"Sssssshhh," the dark witch chuckled throatily. "You are mine, little muddy. Never ever think otherwise. You are completely and utterly mine. Now and forever."

"I... I am yours..." Hermione whispered.

Another chuckle. "Oh, my sweet, sweet mudpet. You and I are going to have so much fun!"

Right now, Hermione would allow Bellatrix to do anything to her.

Absolutely anything.

* * *

With a crack, Bellatrix appeared on the cliffside shores of the North Sea with her niece and Lupin in tow. The clear night sky was lit with a waxing moon and the light of the starts. In the distance stood a ruined castle tower-house, precariously placed on the edge of a steep cliff and the sea below. On a first glance, it looked like a partially collapse ruin. But Bellatrix knew better.

"Is this the place?" Dora asked.

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded. "Keiss Castle. Or, as I know it, the Lestrange vacation house."

"Impossible," said Lupin. "All the Lestrange holdings were seized and documented when you lot were first sentenced to Azkaban."

"You missed that one," said Bellatrix. "And you were supposed to. The muggles don't come near it because they fear it's dangerously close to collapsing into the sea. Little do they know that the castle is protected by magic to prevent just that. There's more illusions, traps and misdirection charms than you can count. It was never registered as properly owned by the Lestranges and specifically meant to be a quiet sanctuary. You would have never found it if I hadn't pointed you to it."

"Are you certain the Lestrange brothers are in?" Lupin asked.

"Oh, yes," Bellatrix chuckled. "Trust me, I know Rodolphus and Rabastan quite well. They'll be here."

"Right," Dora said.

"Remember," said Bellatrix. "Stick to the plan and everything will be fine."

"I'm still not comfortable going in through the front door, though," Dora muttered.

Bellatrix winked at her. "It is when any other way in leads to instant disintegration," she said while stepping forward. There were no paths leading to the castle and the trio walked uneven ground. When they were close enough, Bellatrix stopped and told the others to do so as well. The dark witch closed her eyes and held out her hand. Instantly, a previously invisible barrier flared up.

"That's to keep the riff-raff out," said Bellatrix when a ripple of energy expanded outwards.

"And by that, you mean us?" Lupin muttered wryly.

"Among other things," Bellatrix chuckled. She squeezed her hand into a fist and muttered a few arcane words. Thankfully, the magical barrier still recognized her as a Lestrange and parted to let her and her guests pass. Good, that would make things a lot easier. Oh, the barrier would not have stopped her, but it would certainly have alerted the Lestrange brothers if she were to attempt a breach. Bellatrix motioned for Lupin and Nymphadora to follow her. The moment the three of them passed through the barrier, all illusions faded.

The ruin shimmered and reformed into a completely repaired castle tower home. Four stories tall and a turreted roof, the ancient building was lined with well-lit windows and the Lestrange family banner wafting in the wind. Several gargoyles were placed along the wall as decorations, while a wide staircase led to huge double doors.

"Right," said Bellatrix. "Get ready. Make sure your wands are hidden."

"You'd better be on the level, Lestrange," Lupin narrowed his eyes.

"I told you," said Bellatrix as she raised her wand. Instantly, a magical rope appeared from her satchel which flew forth and tied itself around both Lupin and Nymphadora's wrists and ankles, tightening less than gently. Two bags flew forth as well and went over their heads, the string tightening around their necks. "It's Black! Now when I apparate you in, make it look like I stunned you. You'll know when the time to strike comes."

Muffled agreement sounded and Bellatrix went to the next step of her plan. It was odd to operate out in the open. Like at Gringotts, she felt naked without her mask. There was a measure of safety in hiding one's identity completely. For a moment, a pang of worry shot through her: what if the Lestrange brothers would see through her disguise? Either way, it was too late to back out now. She steeled herself, took a few deep breaths and went up the stairs to lay her hand on the double doors. The magic still recognized her as a Lestrange and they opened before her. So far, so good.

The lower floor was much as she had remembered it: a grand hall lined with statues and paintings of Lestranges past. Several suits of armors stood near the double staircase which led to the common room on the first floor. Her husband always wanted to make lasting first impressions.

If she remembered correctly, the bedrooms were on the second floor and the attic on the third, underneath the roof. A side-door led to the kitchen where there were undoubtedly a few house-elves slaving away. Still, they weren't important now, as she could hear the familiar guffaws of the Lestrange brothers, causing her to grin to herself. It was time to get the drop on them.

Carefully, she went up the winding stairs into the living room. And there they were, surrounded by gaudy furniture, lounging on sofas while laughing over bottles of beer and freshly prepared food. The vacation home always felt like a bachelor pad, to be honest, with a large bar near the bay window overlooking the shoreline. Another door led to a separate room which was Rodolphus' office.

Her forcus, for now, was on the men, however. They laughed at their own jokes, apparently have just returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord. Rodolphus looked haggard as ever, the stocky man that he was. His much thinner rat-faced brother didn't look much better. It seemed as if the Dark Lord hadn't been treating them well.

Their evening was about to take a sharp turn.

"Well, well, well," Bellatrix stepped into view, immediately sauntering into the hallway after adopting the perpetually annoyed tone of voice of her younger self. "Why am I not surprised to see you two idiots drinking lager and shoving food down your gob."

The two men, startled as they were, fell over themselves to scramble to their feet and make a grab for their wands. Soon enough, she found two wands aimed at her.

"Fuck me, Bella," Rodolphus laughed. "You've got some nerve turning up here."

"Hah! We always knew you love nothing more than to dive nose-deep into a cunt," laughed Rabastan. "But I thought you had at lease some common sense to keep your lips off a mudblood cunt. I gotta know, though. Do they taste like mud down there?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Like you've ever tasted a cunt in your entire fucking life! Or even _seen_ one for that matter!"

"I've seen one or two in my life!" Rabastan lamely protested. "I mean, uhm, many! Yes, many! Many pure-blood cunts."

"Shut it, idiot," Rodolphus snarled as his brother. "Bella, what the bloody hell happened? Where have you been? And what the hell was that story in the paper?"

"Don't believe anything you read in the fucking papers, you moronic twat!" Bellatrix groaned, stepping forward without drawing her own wand. With nonchalance she could muster, Bellatrix passed the two men to step to the bar, grabbed one of the lagers, uncorked it and took a sip while leaning against the bar. "Enjoying your man cave?"

"Don't change the subject," Rodolphus glared.

"You know the crooked media is all fake news and lies out to get us. They've always been this way. It's very bad. Low-energy effort. Sad," she said, adopting some lines from a certain muggle president in her own time-line. "And once I get my hands on the writer of that slanderous piece, I'm going to destroy her utterly. And painfully slow."

"The media is in our pocket, if you haven't noticed," Rabastan chuckled. "Try again."

"Come on, journos have always loved their juicy gossip. When has the Daily Prophet _not_ been a sodding rag?" Bellatrix said, taking another sip from the lager. "Come on, lads. This is _me_! Do you really think I, Bellatrix, Death Eater par excellence, someone whose family motto is 'always pure', would lower myself to ' _fuck_ ' a filthy, disgusting little mudblood chit?! I would rather stab my eyes out with knitting needles! We've tortured the Longbottoms together! We went to Azkaban! Do you honestly believe I would turn on the Dark Lord now? For a mudblood girl? I know you two were morons, but I didn't think you were _this_ stupid."

The man remained somewhat tense, though they at least seemed less eager to attack her.

Rodolphus, her useless husband, crossed his arms. "So where have you been, then? Why turn up now? Do you even realize just how furious the Dark Lord is with you? And _us_ because of you?!"

Bellatrix sighed again. "Do me a favour, Rodolphus. I've only just managed to escape! The woman who attacked me was an Order agent. I was taken to an Order safehouse and... interrogated. I resisted. I remained loyal to my Lord! I gave them nothing!"

"Good for you," said Rabastan. "But the Dark Lord still wants to kill you on the spot."

Bellatrix grinned. So far, this was going very well. "He won't when he sees the lovely present I have for him."

The men tensed up again when she drew her wand and waved it to her side. With a magical crack, the tied and hooded Lupin and Nymphadora appeared. "Observe, dear gentlemen," Bellatrix let out a brief cackle. "One Remus Lupin and one Nymphadora Tonks. Packaged up and ready for delivery to the Dark Lord. I'm certain he'll be pleased to have two senior Order members to question and torture. I need you to bring me to him. So that I can explain what happened and take my proper place by his side. Where I belong!"

The way her niece and Lupin were swaying, they were playing their role rather well. She could see that the two men were buying it so far.

"Bella," said Rodolphus. "I suspected the papers lied. You are not a blood-traitor. But..."

Bellatrix tensed when Rodolphus raised his wand at her. "You know as well as I that the Dark Lord will still kill you merely for allowing yourself to be captured in the first place."

"Yeah," Rabastan grinned. "The Dark Lord's gone off his rocker, Bella."

"Bella," said Rodolphus. "We are going to hand both these two wretches _and_ you over to him. He'll be less likely to kill _us_ if we do."

Bellatrix feigned anger and snarled in their faces. "So it's come to this, Rodolphus? You stab me in the back for brownie points with the Dark Lord? After all we've been through?"

"We might have never loved each other, Bella," said Rodolphus with a heavy sigh. "But we were friends once. For what it's worth, it's nothing personal."

"Hah!" Bellatrix threw her head back and let out a cackle... it was a good thing she'd practiced. "Nothing personal, he says. You know what, Rodolphus? There's one thing I'd like to say to you."

"What?" he laughed.

Bellatrix's cackle faded and her mouth formed into a warm, wistful smile before she spoke with a soft and gentle tone. "My muggle-born wife is far better in bed than you could ever dream to be."

The statement was confusing enough to both Lestrange brothers for Bellatrix to see an opening. The dark witch made a waving arc with her wand, producing a cacophony of light and sound. While diving to the side, she twirled her wand again to release Lupin and Dora, who sprang to action with their own wands in hand. Lupin dove behind a sofa while Dora jumped over the bar.

Spells were already being flung about and Bellatrix scrambled to join her niece behind the bar. She pressed her back against the wood and tried to get a feel for the situation. Instantly, a bolt of magic slammed into the wood a lot closer than she would have liked and she quickly turned her head away to avoid flying splinters. Still, she'd seen enough: the Lestrange brothers were back to back in an alcove near the office where they had a wide view of the room. They had a direct line of sight on Lupin behind the sofa while she and Dora were stuck wedged between a wooden counter and a cabinet full of bottles of rather flammable high-alcohol content liquor. Not an idea situation to be certain.

Apparently, Rodolphus had the same idea she had and launched a fireball right towards the liquor cabinet. Bellatrix and Dora had a brief time to share a look before diving out from behind the bar. They had just cleared the bar before the fireball exploded against the liquor cabinet setting it and and half the room ablaze. Now their situation was even further from ideal, as both Dora and Lupin were behind the same sofa and she had been forced out into the open. Thinking on her feet, Bellatrix searched for a way to flush the brothers out and found it in that awful gaudy chandelier that was hanging right over their heads where they stood. A wand raised and magic shooting out caused the chandelier to enlarge to five times its size. Immediately, the hook holding the thing to the ceiling gave way and caused it to crash right on top of them.

The brothers were separated now, with only Rodolphus making it out in time while Rabastan stuggled to free himself from the fallen hulk of metal. Lupin and Dora sprang to action from behind the sofa, finding themselves dueling him. As much as Bellatrix was fond of saying that her husband was useless, he undeniably a good spellcaster, dueling both Lupin and Dora and holding his own.

Meanwhile, Rabastan had managed to free himself and Bellatrix moved to engage before he could hit Lupin and Dora in the back. The dark witch moved to stand between them, staring him down with wand raised. Rabastan said nothing, but started slinging spells around. Killing curse after killing curse after killing curse, all easily dodged by Bellatrix.

Well, Rabastan was hardly imaginative.

Still, that was no reason to get complacent. Rather than engaging Rabastan directly, Bellatrix focused her attention on the now broken chain which once held the chandelier up. Whipping her wand upward, she enchanted both end-links of the chain to start flying towards the bar with great force, dragging the rest of the chain with it. The middle of the chain caught around Rabastan's waist, sending the wizard hurtling right into the blaze of fire.

Blood-curdling screams of pain followed, as well as the sickeningly sweet smell of burned skin and flesh. This was enough to throw Rodolphus off balance, giving her niece the opening she needed.

"Can you fly?!" Dora yelled and pumped her wand hand forward. A blue bolt slammed into his chest and sent him flying out the bay windows with a surprised yelp. Shards of glass and bits of wood exploded around him when he shot out into the darkness.

That left Rebastan for Bellatrix and she would be merciless. The half-burned man tried to crawl away while Bellatrix strode ever closer. She could see the fear in his eyes when he rolled to his back and raised his hands to beg for his life.

He was pathetic.

A whip shot from the tip of her wand and wrapped around his neck. His eyes bulging, he clawed at the whip in a useless attempt to dislodge it. She jerked her wand sideways and, after the sound of the sickening crack, he fell down with his neck at an odd angle, moving no more.

"Bella!" Lupin demanded, grabbing her by the lapels. "That was unnecessary!"

"He had to die," Bellatrix return, pilling her cloak from his grasp for good measure.

"Why?! There was so much he could have told us!" Lupin narrowed his eyes. "And we do not kill our prisoners, Black."

Bellatrix spun around to face him. "I'm from the future, remember? I know exactly who is supposed to die and when. And he was supposed to die today. Just think for a moment, Lupin. If I do not follow the chain of events exactly as it is supposed to be, everything becomes unreliable! If he had lived, he might have influenced future events in unknown ways. Hell, if I had left him alive he might even have been around to kill you later! So spare me your self-righteous lectures and be grateful for a change, you stupid little man! Besides which, the man was a tosspot!"

Well. That shut him up quite effectively.

There was still Rodolphus to deal with. He'd make quite a high fall, but it was certainly survivable. Bellatrix rushed to the window where Nymphadora was still standing. Her niece wasn't exactly running out to chase after him and when she got to the window, she saw why that was the case in quite gory detail.

While looking down, Bellatrix recalled a conversation she'd had with Rodolphus years ago, after receiving the Lestrange vacation home as a wedding gift from his grandfather. He had bragged how he wanted a mean looking wizard tower, surrounded a tall classic wrought-iron fence with spikes on top.

Well. He had come to regret that decision.

"Bad fall," Nymphadora smirked as she regarded her uncle's impaled body. "I have to say, auntie, for a moment I really thought that you were going to hand us both over."

"Look on the bright side," Bellatrix laughed. "You've just made me the richest witch in all of the UK. With my husband's death, my younger self just inherited the combined Lestrange and Black fortune. About 2.1 billion galleons."

Nymphadora raised an eyebrow. "D-did I just help you become a rich widow?"

"Trust me," winked Bellatrix. "A lot of that money is going towards the betterment of our entire family. And the betterment of a whole lot of abused magical creatures. Not to mention a whole lot of illegal and dangerous time-travel research. But for now, let's find what we've _really_ come here for."

While Lupin and Dora were getting the fire under control before it would spread to the rest of the tower, Bellatrix entered the office. It was much like she had known it – hardly used books piling out of bookcases and a grand oaken desk meant to impress rather than to be used. Piles of paper were strewn about and several books on the darkest of magic were kept in display case: later in life, these would find themselves displayed in Hermione's private library at their Cairngorms home. Not that Hermione would ever dabble in such magics, but her wife was never one to throw away a rare and ancient book, regardless of content.

As expected she found what she was looking for right in Rodolphus' office, conveniently on top of his desk. Of course, she wasn't surprised as Rodolphus likely never expected his home to be breached as it had been. After making sure Dora and Lupin weren't looking, she pointed her wand at one of the papers and added one name to the list. Satisfied with her handiwork, she scooped up the paper.

By then, Lupin and Dora had managed to put out the fire and had joined her in the study.

"My poor late husband never threw anything away," Bellatrix grinned and handed a stack of documents to Lupin. The man leafed through it and as soon as he realized what he was holding, his eyes grew wide.

"This... Merlin, Black... Do you know what this means?"

"I know exactly what it means."

"Care to explain?" Dora asked.

Lupin turned to her. "Dora," he started. "These are lists of names. Of Ministry officials to be brought under the imperius curse, of Death Eater sleeper agents, of Snatchers, of corrupt aurors, of collaborators. These were used to plan their take-over of the Ministry."

"You'll find more," said Bellatrix, pointing back to the office. "Schedules. Time-tables. Locations. This time around, you'll know _exactly_ who was in league with the Dark Lord and who was not."

"We can use this," Lupin grinned, his mood turning hopeful. "We can use this to take back the Ministry!"

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "But our window of opportunity is limited. If it's discovered that the Lestrange brothers have been killed, a lot of this information will become useless."

"So," Nymphadora said. "This is bigger than two top Death Eaters after all. What's our next step?"

Bellatrix straightened her back. "I need to speak with Alastor Moody immediately."


	15. Self-sacrifice

Hermione smiled to herself while letting her hands slide over Bellatrix's bare back as she lay on her stomach with her cheek smushed into the pillow, a mess of dark curls spilling over the sheets. Bellatrix's soft skin felt like satin under her hands as she rubbed up and down, moving through her lover's soft hair whenever she reached her shoulders.

For her part, Bellatrix was quite enjoying herself. Hermione felt quit proud that she was making her purr like a kitten. They had made love several times more after her first time last evening, each more glorious than the next. Repaying Bellatrix with a massage was the least she could do, even though she didn't quite know if she was doing it right.

The annoyed groan which sounded whenever Hermione stopped her rubbing, however, was proof enough that she was indeed doing it right.

"Bella?" Hermione whispered into the darkness of the room. It was still dark outside, even if morning was approaching. Perhaps it would be nice to lazy around in bed until noon, as they both hadn't exactly gotten much sleep last night.

"Hm, little muddy?" Bellatrix asked.

"Use my name, please."

"Hm?"

"I have a name, Bella. It's not muddy," said Hermione. "After all we've been through and… what we've shared last night, I'd rather you use it."

Bellatrix didn't look at her, simply kept her head on the pillow with her eyes closed.

"I shall call you whatever I please, mudpet," said Bellatrix, after some contemplation. "Though I suppose you're right. Hermione is a rather nice name. Perhaps I should use it more. But don't let it go to your head… Hermione."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. It was small concession, at least. After a few more moments of rubbing, Bellatrix turned to her side, inviting Hermione to lay down with her. With a warm smile, Hermione did so. She lay her nude body next to Bellatrix and felt two arms wrap around her. Their lips met for a brief but passionate kiss. It was one of many she had received tonight, but every kiss was one to remember. Laying in Bellatrix's arms and pressing against her, she felt the dark witch's nimble fingers stroke through her hair.

"Our time together. In the sanctuary... On the road... And last night...Has it changed your opinions on muggle-borns?" Hermione asked carefully.

Bellatrix looked her in the eye, a neutral expression soon folding into a smirk. "Oh, you are _really_ pushing your luck now, little Hermione," she gave a throaty chuckle. "Though I suppose you are right. There are some mudbloods… and by some I mean a tiny minority… who might be just a tad better than the rest of their ilk."

"It's a start I suppose," Hermione smiled. Baby-steps.

They lay together in silence for a moment, and Hermione was certain that both she and her dark lover had fallen asleep again in each others arms at some point. The young witch felt lazy and boneless when being held while an almost reluctant Bellatrix took a glance at the light of the sun pouring through a crack in the curtains. "It is time to get out of bed," she sighed heavily.

"Do we have to?" Hermione groaned. She hadn't meant for her statement to come out as a whine, but she wasn't making any apologies for it. The answer came from Bellatrix's stomach, which growled in protest of going on unfed. Hermione pouted a little when Bellatrix let go of her and slipped out of bed to quickly scoop up the clothes she had so haphazardly discarded the night before.

"I want one of those microwave ready-mades we had yesterday. Something with spicy chicken," said Bellatrix.

Hermione rolled on her back. "Microwave dinner? For breakfast?"

"It is noon," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly.

"We are not having microwave dinner for breakfast," Hermione challenged.

A short debate ensued and it was rather quickly decided that they were, indeed, having microwave dinner for breakfast. While Bellatrix popped into the shower, Hermione lazied in bed for a few more moments before gathering her own clothes and slipping out of the bedroom. Approaching the bathroom, she already heard the sound of falling water and found the door locked. Kicking herself for not suggesting they'd shower together, she figured she'd best wash up at the kitchen sink and getting dressed. Before she went downstairs, however, she couldn't help but notice that Bellatrix was humming that song again. She made a note of it and went down the stairs.

She gathered two microwave dinners from the fridge and set them on the kitchen counters. After washing up, she was just putting on her shirt when Bellatrix came down the stairs, dried off and dressed in her apparently casual evening gown. The first thing she did was to claim her chicken dinner, removed the plastic and liberally applied the pepper mill to it.

"Put it in that muggle-thing," Bellatrix demanded and looked on warily as Hermione opened the microwave door, put the chicken dinner inside and pressed the start button. There was a brief moment of apprehension from the dark witch when the machine hummed to life.

"It's just a button, Bellatrix," said Hermione. "See, it's perfectly safe."

"I'll take your word for it," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "How you cook without fire? Muggles are such strange creatures."

"Elecromagnetic waves," said Hermione. "They agitate the water molecules in the food and that heats the meal."

Bellatrix scrutinized the machine a little as her food was turning around on a spinning platform in the middle of it. The dark witch narrowed her eyes a little. "You can't fool me! It must be enchanted somehow. Can't be anything else."

Hermione decided to leave the subject for now and couldn't help but be amused by the way Bellatrix had her nose pressed on the glass of the microwave done while studying the device. "Bella? I've been meaning to ask. It's twice now that I've heard you hum a song and I'm just wondering what song it is. I've heard you singing it in the shower twice now."

Bellatrix withdrew from the microwave done and glared at Hermione for a bit. "You make a habit of spying on a lady when she's bathing?" she smirked briefly.

"It's not spying when I can hear you clearly from the other side of the door," said Hermione.

The dark witch shrugged. "I suppose you're right. It was a song my mother often sang to me when I was a little girl. It always stuck with me."

Surprise came when Bellatrix actually cleared her throat and started not to hum, but to sing softly.

" _Sleep, sleep little witchling._

_Let magic warm your night._

_Don't cry, little witchling._

_Let magic shield your plight._

_Smile, smile, little witchling._

_Let magic be your light._

_Be proud, little witchling._

_Let magic give you might."_

"That's beautiful," said Hermione. Who knew that Bellatrix Lestrange, for all her shrieks and cackles, could have such a beautiful singing voice.

"I don't know why it keeps popping in my head," Bellatrix shrugged just at the microwave tinged. Immediately, the dark witch took a step back and waited for Hermione to remove her food from the machine which she promptly took with her to the living room. When Hermione's food was done, she joined the dark witch and found that she had already eaten half of it. Apparently, Bellatrix was not in a polite mood to wait for Hermione to join her.

Before she sat down on the sofa, she stepped to the curtains and took a brief peek through the crack. Nothing seemed to be out of the order. For now.

An annoyed grunt came from the sofa. "If these days are to be our last, little Hermione, wouldn't you want to live them to the fullest and not spend them wallowing in paranoia?"

"I get the sense you've been living a lot of days like they are the last," said Hermione, sitting down next to Bellatrix and cuddling up against her which, to her surprise, the dark witch allowed.

"It's true. The way this is going, I don't see a good outcome. Not for either of us, little muddy."

"That's a bit pessimistic."

"Point is, would you rather spend those moments being so worried about being caught that you forget to live?" asked Bellatrix.

A thought crossed Hermione's mind. "Is that why.. you did what you did yesterday?"

Bellatrix, having finished her bowl, put it away on the table and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. "Partially. Spending a lovely night with a very pretty girl is part of living, my little Hermione. Even if she is of lesser breeding."

Ignoring the insult, Hermione preferred to focus on the compliment. "You think I'm pretty?" she said, not expecting all the blood in her body to rush to her cheeks.

Bellatrix obviously noticed this and gave her a sly grin. "Fishing for compliments now, sweet mudpet? Very well, I will indulge you this time. Yes, you are pretty. And decidedly adorable when embarrassed. You are intelligent and capable. Certainly worthy of spending the night with me. And many more to come. I have much to teach you, muddy. I shall be a harsh, but fair tutor."

Many more nights of the same kind of pleasure she had experienced the night before. She quite liked the sound of that. Very much so in fact. "It's just that... well, I told you about my lack of a love-life."

"Oh, pish-posh, Hermione," Bellatrix scoffed. "Don't waste your time with that Weasel-boy. He can never compare to me, not even in his wildest imaginations"

Hermione considered that that was certainly right. Meanwhile, Bellatrix was doing a bit of exploring. The table in front of the sofa was a oaken one with many drawers. Apparently having gained an interest, Bellatrix opened a few. Finding some odd muggle things and booklets. One of the things she pulled out was Hermione's old Rubix cube... solved, of course.

"What is this?"

"It's a puzzle," said Hermione, taking it from her to show her. "The object of the same is to match all the colored squares. You rotate it until you have it right."

"Hm," said Bellatrix, reaching into the drawer again. "A watch. Looks old," asked Bellatrix, holding a golden old-style pocket watch on a chain.

"Hm?" asked Hermione, taking a look. "Oh, that's just my great-grandfather's old pocket watch, which my nan used all the time. So I put some enchantments on it to protect the fragile inner mechanism and some other things such as charm for magically rewinding it so it's always working. It's a really nice little watch. Shows time and date and is astoundingly accurate for a time-piece that old."

Hermione settled into the embrace after Bellatrix put the watch back in the drawer. She considered that the dark witch was right: if these really were their last moments, she'd prefer to enjoy them in comfort. Hermione looked at the watch while cuddled up against a surprisingly gentle Bellatrix. Time, it seems, was not on their side.

* * *

Bellatrix, rather impatiently, fished a golden pocketwatch from her robe and checked the time, annoyed at the manacles around her wrists now limiting her movements. The time-piece, once belonging to Hermione's grandmother, was accurate to the second as usual. Merlin, time was not on her side. What was taking those idiots so damn long?

The dark witch was sitting in an empty room, manacled to a single chair with a single light hanging overhead. Gray concrete walls surrounded her on four sides with a single metal door in front of her. After surrendering herself and the documents to Lupin, they had agreed to bring her to Moody. But not without precautions. A bag had been pulled over her head, she had been hit with multiple confundus charms and at least nine side-long apparations to the point of her almost vomiting before she'd been deposited here. She was pretty sure she'd been fed veratiserum as well, but that wasn't a bad thing in this case.

All that trouble and still, she knew exactly where she was: she'd been here before, after all.

This was an abandoned fort on the Channel Islands, used as a waystation and safe-house for the Order of the Phoenix in both wizarding wars. Ages ago, she and her 'compatriots' had been brought here after their arrest and were officially charged with torturing the Longbottoms. Being a woman, she'd been spared the beatings the men had been given, but the Order members on duty had no trouble denying her food and water for almost four days. Quite possibly, they might have put her in the same room they had back then and, come to think, the chair she was chained to quite reminded of the situation she'd been in during her trial.

They were trying to unnerve her, it seemed. It wasn't working. What _was_ unnerving was just how much precious time the Order was wasting. As much as she told herself that time was immutable, doubt was always in the back of her mind.

Finally, after another agonizing few minutes, the metal door opened and in stepped Alastor Moody. He looked much like she'd remembered him, if a little younger. His magical eye roved around wildly as he was dressed in his usual shabby long brown coat. His false leg tapped on the floor, making a different sound than his actual leg whenever he walked. The man had never realized that was exactly who every Death Eater worth their salt knew he would have entered the field of battle.

With Dumbledore's death, Moody had become the de facto leader of the Order of the Phoenix, with many loyal aurors and capable wizards flocking to his banner. Saving his life had been part of her plan to make life difficult for the Death Eaters, and it had made the Order stronger as a result.

Still, she knew she was taking a big risk. The old goat was paranoid to a fault and she hoped she'd be able to convince him. History told that the raid and subsequent liberation of the Ministry had taken place, and now she would have to make that happen.

"So, Lestrange," said Moody, his voice gruff as usual. "We find ourselves in this very room yet again."

"Could use a bit of wallpaper," Bellatrix muttered wryly.

That made Moody snort. "I'll forward your suggestion to logistics. Now, Nymphadora and Lupin have been telling me some rather outlandish tales. Recognize this?"

He held up her mask, producing it from a satchel on his side. " _I_ sure do," said Moody. "A mysterious benefactor cushioned my fall and placed a wand right where I would land. Curious, that. As if that mysterious figure in the distance knew what would happened. And where I would fall."

"I did," said Bellatrix. "And I prevented your death."

"That remains to be seen," said Moody, pacing back and forth a little. "Curious thing about masks, Lestrange. They hide its wearer. So you say you are my mysterious benefactor, hm? Well, that works both ways. How do I know it was even you? You might have killed the benefactor to take their place. How do I know that this is even the same mask? How do I know it was even one person?"

A much as she hated to admit it, Moody had a point. If she was masked, then how would anyone know if it indeed had been her? For a year, she had kept herself so effectively hidden that nobody had even the slightest hint of a clue to her true identity. Though that had been perfectly fine before, it had now become a serious hamper to the end game she'd been planning.

"Very well," said Bellatrix, thinking on her feet and finding an opening. "I can give you names of Death Eaters I've thwarted or killed, dates and locations of raids I've stopped or interfered with. Information going back over the year I've been in this time-line. Verify those things and you'll see I'm telling the truth."

Moody gave a dismissive grunt, shaking his head as he did so. "That doesn't prove anything. Death Eaters would know their own operations and when they were thwarted. It doesn't prove at all that you specifically were the one to thwart them, only that you know they _were_ thwarted."

Bellatrix grit her teeth. "Very well. I've led Dora and Lupin to the Lestrange vacation house," said Bellatrix. "Two senior Death Eaters now lie dead and I've helped the Order gain vital information. Surely that's an indication of my intent."

"Is that so?" Moody replied. "Dora tells me you were quite insistent about killing the Lestranges rather than capturing them."

"They would not have surrendered," Bellatrix said, instantly cursing herself for answering that question a bit too quickly... a fact Moody had definitely picked up on.

"Why not? They did before," replied Moody, crossing his arms. "After the Longbottoms… and don't think I've forgotten your involvement in that, Lestrange. What I am seeing here is a profit motive. Your husband's death has made you a very, very rich widow, Lestrange. Enough money to escape the Ministry and live like a queen if You-Know-Who loses the war or just live like a queen if he wins. Either way, you come out on top."

Bellatrix bristled, frustration gaining the upper hand. "Then why would I willingly surrender myself to you?!"

Moody didn't reply but held up the mask. "Let's assume that what you say is true – you bore this mask and made Death Eater lives miserable for over a year. You say you have been working against the Dark Lord for some sort of future life you want to live. But I'm not convinced. A powerful witch like you could be planning to usurp his throne and take his place. A Dark Lady, hm, yes. We didn't have one for quite a long time, not since Elisabeth Bathory. I think you might actually make a rather effective Dark Lady."

"Oh, for the love of Circe," Bellatrix muttered, struggling against her chains, looking up at Moody with fire in her eyes. "I do not want to take the Dark Lord's place! I am not the same person I used to be! Ask Andromeda! Or Dora, even! All I want is my peaceful life with Hermione and my family!"

"Irrelevant," said Moody. "Andromeda is a kind woman whom has always hoped to reconnect with the sisters she loved so dearly, but cruelly turned their backs on her. She _wants_ to believe you, whatever outlandish story you feed her. Nymphadora is my protege, and I will not speak ill of her, but she is naive, brazen and loves her mother dearly. In that respect, she _wants_ to believe you too."

The dark witch turned her head away and took a few deep breaths. This wasn't going well and she was running out of options fast. Had she finally made a mistake? Had she overestimated the order? If she had, her quest to ensure her family's future might end in this very room.

"Take a look at the picture you found on me! It clearly shows…"

"Don't insult my intelligence!" Moody snarled. "Pictures can be forged. Easily, in fact!"

Bellatrix let out a cry of anger. "All of this is moot! Your lackeys fed me veritaserum, Moody. I am compelled to the tell the truth and I haven't told you a single lie!"

"Veratiserum can be circumvented, certainly by a witch of your focus, intelligence and skill at Occulumency," said Moody, shaking his head. "You know this as well as I do."

"Check my age! I'm older than the Bellatrix of this time-line. Look at my hair!" Bellatrix pressed. At least she had gotten rid of the make-up and had Andie restore her original hair color before handing herself over.

Moody smirked, stopping and standing in front of her with both hands resting on his walking staff. "Now that we _did_ do. We still have a few unspeakables among our numbers and they did a magical analysis on one of your hairs. She determined that you are indeed twenty years older and your body does show signs of magical temporal flux."

Oh, that was a relief. At least she was starting to make some headway. "Well, there you go."

"Still, that only tells me you traveled through time, but it tells me nothing about your motives," said Moody. "Let's for the sake of argument, assume you are who you say you are. But time travel is tricky, Lestrange. Assume we won the war and you're now traveling back in time to try to change history to give your precious Dark Lord a second chance. Or, like I said, take his place."

And then she was right back where she'd started. This frustrating man was talking in circles.

"Then why the hell would I be making the Death Eater's lives miserable, then?!" Bellatrix yelled. "Why would I surrender myself willingly?"

Moody shot forward, slamming his hands on Bellatrix's wrists and lowering his head right in Bellatrix's face. "To lull us into a false sense of security!" shouted Moody. An intense staring contest followed, which wasn't easy considering one eye was rolling about madly. "It's going to take the entire Order to take back the Ministry and then some! You would have us march right into the lion's den, possibly into a trap which will wipe us all out!"

"I don't believe this! I'm giving you the Ministry on a silver platter! I've killed Death Eaters!" shouted Bellatrix. "What more do you want?! Should I serve you coffee as well?!"

"Exactly! You are a killer still, Lestrange, for all your talk about your nice family and your perfect little future. You are willing to kill for it and I bet you're willing to sacrifice a whole lot of people for it too," Moody said. "So what would you do for Hermione Granger, hm?" asked Moody.

Bellatrix grit her teeth. " _Everything_!" she hissed.

"And that," said Moody, withdrawing from the chair. "Is why I can't trust you. It makes you dangerous; even more dangerous than you already were! We'll not be going with your foolhardy plan to assault the Ministry. No, no, no. Your participation in this war is over. Get used to your new home, but don't worry. I'll make sure you'll get plenty of food and water this time around."

Bellatrix stared in utter disbelief as Moody turned around and slowly made his way back to the door. This... this couldn't be happening. This wasn't according to plan. Panic and desperation set in as she saw her own future was crumbling in front of her very eyes. Then came the anger.

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME! YOU OWE ME YOUR LIFE, YOU SAD PARANOID OLD MAN!" Bellatrix tried to raise from her chair, only to be stopped by the chains. "I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU PLUMMET TO YOUR DEATH! I SWEAR, I SWEAR IF YOUR STUPIDITY COSTS ME MY FAMILY, MY HERMIONE, YOU WILL BEG FOR ME TO KILL YOU BEFORE I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

Moody stopped in his tracks, not turning around. Bellatrix struggled against the chains. It dawned onto her that she was crying and her expression was one of sheer desperation. She lowered her gaze and let her dark curls fall down. "Moody," she spoke softly. "Please... Please... It was I who worked against the Dark Lord for a year. I've helped the Order. The Ministry... the assault will work. I know it will. Please..."

She looked up again, and saw that the hard-boiled Alastor Moody's expression had softened. " _Now_ I believe you," he spoke, a grin crossing his grizzled features. A wave of his wand and the chains fell off. "Come with me, Lestrange," he said. "We have work to do."

Bellatrix nodded and slowly rose from the chair, relief washing over her. She raised her hands just in time to catch her mask. "Take that with you," said Moody and beckoned her to follow him. "You're going to need it soon."

"Wait," Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed, laughing at her own foolishness. "Strong emotions. Strong emotions disrupt mental attempts to circumvent the effects of veritaserum."

"Smarter than you look, eh, Lestrange?" said Moody as he stopped her in front of the large metal door. "Though I suppose it's Black again now. Put on the mask. Only a few of my most loyal troops know you are here and who you are. Right now, seeing Bellatrix Lestrange walk among us would raise far too many questions. However, when you wear that mask, you are 'Batman'."

"You've been talking to my niece," said Bellatrix while sliding the mask over her face and pulling her hood over her head. It was odd, really, but wearing this mask made her feel so much safer and much less exposed.

Moody led her out the door and Bellatrix was surprised to see all the bustle in the fort. Wizards were running back and forth while more and more apparated in through hastily set up portable floo's. The Order was planning something big. Something very big.

"Yes," said Moody as they walked over the metal grating of the old fort's scaffolding. "We're already making preparations. The opportunity is too good to pass up and now that we know you're on the level, we can go through with our assault."

Another thing she couldn't help but notice were all the appreciative looks aimed at her, the occasional cheer and even a pat on the back or two from a passing wizard. Moody lowered his voice somewhat. "It's strange, isn't it, Black?" said Moody. "Without that mask, you'd be distrusted, loathed and perhaps even spat upon. But with it on, you're a living urban legend. An inspiration. A lone woman who stood up against the Death Eaters for a year and gave them a black eye at every turn. Having you join the assault will be a great boost for morale."

"How many people are we bringing to the fight?" asked Bellatrix as they passed a group of goblins.

"The entirety of the Order," said Moody. "All the ex-aurors have answered the call. A slew of volunteers, wizards, witches and goblins. We're well over six-hundred strong and we're hoping the majority of the Ministry staff will side with us in the fight... those that haven't been Imperiused at least. And thanks to you, we know exactly who to trust... and, more importantly, who _not_ to trust."

Moody led her into what looked to be a command center. Maps of the UK with crosses and little red flags on them lined the wall, while communication witches were yelling in enchanted shells to coordinate the incoming groups of soldiers. This was the heart of the resistance: this is where the Order would make its last stand if it would come to it... and Bellatrix would see that it wouldn't.

Around a large table stood Lupin, Dora and some people she did not recognize. Of the others there, she did recognize Kingsley Shacklebolt and Rufus Scrimgeour. Nymphadora gave her a grin and a nod.

"And what do we call you?" Rufus Scrimgour asked with a less-than-gentle tone of voice.

"Well, Batman, obviously," Nymphadora crossed her arms.

"Batman will do," Bellatrix confirmed and regarded the table. Though she had gotten used to the limited view the smaller eye-holes afforded, the large beak-shaped snout of her mask made seeing what was below her a tad difficult without dipping her head comically low. Unfortunately, she had to do just that to see a map of the Ministry on the table.

"Are you sure we can trust her?" Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes impossibly further.

Moody snorted. "I'm never sure I can trust anyone. Not even anyone in this very room," Moody replied. "But I am satisfied enough with her answers."

The others seemed to accept this quickly enough. To the Order, Moody's word was law.

"We have two main problems," said Kingsley. "First, the Ministry is closed tighter than a miser's purse. If our assault is to have any hope of succeeding, we will have to have help from the inside. Someone will have to let us in."

"That is where our friend comes in," said Moody. "You mentioned defectors?"

"There are those among the Death Eaters who no longer believe the Dark Lord has the wizarding world's best interest at heart," said Bellatrix. "They've all been stationed at the Ministry and they can be where you need them to be."

"And how do you know this?" asked Scrimgeour.

"Does it matter?" said Bellatrix. "They are led by Antonin Dolohov. I've told him to expect an Order agent."

She picked up a quill and scribbled an address on a piece of paper. "Antonin enjoys a few pints at this muggle pub after work. Contact him here."

"Who are the defectors?" Moody asked.

"Rowle, Rookwood, Penelope Graves, Myranda and Benweth Snyde," said Bellatrix. "Lucius Malfoy as well. Ask Antonin to have them wear something purple to make them recognizable during the assault."

"We will send an agent," said Moody. "We'll let him know we will assault the Ministry the first thing in the morning."

The rest of the time was spend discussing entry points and tactic, which basically amounted to hitting the auror office first and then cutting off the different levels of the Ministry from that position. The list of names of collaborators and imperiused personnel would help and a small group of cursebreakers would work to free those people from their spell. However, there was one rather important point, one which Lupin would bring up.

"The numbers are not in our favor," Lupin said. "Snatchers make the bulk of the Ministry's defense forces. They're not particularly talented or powerful, but with their numbers they could overtake us with brute force if we're not careful."

"You need a distraction," said Bellatrix. "A way to divert a large number of snatchers and corrupt aurors away from the Ministry. Fortunately, I know just the thing."

After discussing her plan in private with Moody, the old man gave her the go-ahead to execute it. In the privacy of one of the offices, Bellatrix removed her mask and cast a spell to hide her features somewhat. In the office was a miniature floo at head height built into the wall, meant only for making floo calls. After tossing some powder into the fireplace, she stuffed her head into the floo and whispered to make contact with the Ministry.

"Yes, hello?" she faked her best Scottish accent. "This is mrs. McDuff. I think I've spotted Bellatrix Lestrange and Hermione Granger. They're in my hometown. See them with my own two eye, I did! Yes. Yes, sir. Banchory, sir. They're in Banchory."


	16. Self-made

Hermione gasped for breath while hot water poured down on her body... and that of Bellatrix. Closing her eyes, she let the sensations of a warm body against her while her back was being pressed into cold tiles wash over her.

Spending the first waking moments making love in her grandmother's shower... after having made love in her grandmother's bed for most of the night.

How decadent.

Though, knowing her nan, she would have probably had a good laugh about it.

Bellatrix was hungry. Insatiable, even. Hands roamed over her body while soft lips latched onto the nape of her neck. God, she swore every involuntary moan Hermione drew a cruel cackle from the wicked woman... which only made Hermione lust for more.

Still, the dark witch wasn't solely in charge anymore: after their first time together, Hermione had gotten more daring, much to the dark witch's delight. She let her hands slide over Bellatrix's back, her belly, her breasts. The slightly foamy soap covering both their bodies adding to the pleasant sensations, the two of them kissing once more.

"You are mine," Bellatrix whispered in her ear. "Say it, muddy. Say it for me."

"I am yours," Hermione whispered back. It was submission, pure and simple. Normally the headstrong girl wouldn't even consider saying that to anyone. But there was something deeply erotic to submitting to the dark witch, especially when she rewarded her with such pleasure. Gentle, deep and slow strokes pushing further and further into her wetness.

"Who do you belong to?" Bellatrix whispered in her ear.

"You," Hermione gasped as her breath quickened underneath her lover's touch.

"Whose touch do you beg for?" Bellatrix chuckled, the breath on her skin sending shudders through her as the rhythmic pace quickened steadily.

"Yours."

She was so close to the edge now. The point of no return was coming and once Hermione would fall into the void, she would leave it again. She fought to keep her breath under control, to try to postpone the inevitable. But Bellatrix was cruel and relentless.

"Whose name will your scream?" Bellatrix laughed, biting down on her earlobe and gently suckling it while a hand cupped her breast and massaged a hardened nipple with her thumb.

That did it.

"B... B... BELLA!" Hermione gasped out and promptly pleasure clouded her every thought. She went weak in the knees, but was deftly caught before she could fall to be pushed back into the cold tiles while she struggled to recover from that sheer amount of pleasure. To think lovemaking could be such a wonderful experience.

"That's it, mudpet," Bellatrix whispered softly, bending over to kiss Hermione on the forehead. "Sweet, sweet mudpet."

"Oh, god," Hermione muttered. "I... I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

"All in due time, muddy," said Bellatrix. "All in due time. You have much to learn and I will teach you many things."

There was something in the way Bellatrix had said that which made Hermione go weak in the knees again.

Almost reluctantly, Hermione had left the shower and, clad in a bathrobe, made her way into her nan's bedroom where he clothes still lied. She pushed aside the curtains for a moment to peek through, and from the first floor, she had a good view of the street. Again, nothing special other than the occasional muggle. Perhaps she was just being silly: if there weren't any suspicious people looking for her by now, then she wasn't in any danger.

Hermione searched her nan's dresser, find an old hairdryer and plugged it in. The hairdryer sprang to life and Hermione calmly stood in front of the mirror while running a brush through her hair. Thankfully, the old hairdryer was still doing its job. She almost done when Bellatrix appeared behind her, looking rather skittish.

"What is making that noise, muddy?" she asked warily.

Hermione switched off the hairdryer and turned to face the dark witch. After the shower they had just shared, Bellatrix's curly mane had lost quite a bit of its volume, making the dark witch look rather like a wet poodle. She ran a hand over her face, pushing the wet hair away.

"This?" said Hermione. "Oh, it's just a hairdryer."

Unfortunately, Hermione made the mistake of turning it on while aiming it at her lover. Bellatrix almost jumped three feet back, raising her hands in protest.

"It's harmless," said Hermione. "It's just something to dry your hair after a shower. Here, let me show you."

After Bellatrix was sat in front of the mirror, she reluctantly grabbed hold of the hairdryer. "That's the end that blows the hot air into your hair and you aim it at yourself," said Hermione. A tremor went through the dark witch as the machine turned on and she placed it directly against her hair.

"Not so close to your hair or it might catch fire!" Hermione warned.

Bellatrix immediately kept the machine at arm's length, vaguely aiming it at herself from as great a distance as possible.

"But... not so far way that it doesn't actually do anything," Hermione corrected.

Bellatrix let out a groan. "How do muggles manage to survive past the age of twenty?! Their houses are filled with death trap after death trap!"

Despite her complaints, Bellatrix eventually got the hang of it and managed to get her curly dark hair to look as it was supposed to look after a whole lot of brushing. Naturally, the dark witch was constantly complaining. "Magic is quicker," said Bellatrix. "I miss my wand."

"You're doing fine without it," said Hermione as she stepped to the window once more. One more look. Just one more look to assure herself she was being silly and she'd be certain they were both safe. Bellatrix was still complaining when Hermione peeked through the curtains.

"Oh god," Hermione gasped, prompting Bellatrix to table her complaints for now.

"What?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow and joined her at the window.

"Bella, look," Hermione said, pointing out a group of men and women wearing oddly dressed clothing. Plaid trousers, leather coats and weird hats. Trying to blend in with muggles, but simply not getting it right. "Are those…"

"Snatchers," Bellatrix glowered. "I recognize the one on the right. That's a search party. They're looking for us."

Hermione gasped, swallowing hard. "We have no wands."

"I can be dangerous without a wand, mudpet. So can you," said Bellatrix. "Looks like they're adopting ministry tactics: secure known wizards in their homes, then roam the streets looking for any unexpected magical signatures. Our signatures."

"It'll only be a matter of time before they'll find us," said Hermione. "What do we do?"

Bellatrix chuckled. "This is it, my little muddy," she said, almost smiling. "We prepare."

"You're just giving up?" Hermione turned to her, grabbing her dark witch by the shoulders.

Bellatrix scoffed at her. "Who said anything about giving up? We prepare for a fight to the death and make them bleed for every single inch they draw nearer to us! Still, I suspect there'll be snatchers all over the town and the odds are decidedly against us. We make our last stand here, my little muddy."

While the idea of making a final, desperate last stand and dying in each other's arms when the overwhelming amount of snatchers coming their way would finally gain the upper hand was an oddly romantic one, Hermione was in no mood to die today. The young witch put her finger to her lips. There had to be some way out of this mess. A smile crossed her features. "Duncan!" she called out. "Duncan will help us."

"That old Scot?" Bellatrix scoffed. "He's the only one whom we're certain of knows we were here. It's likely he's the one who ratted us out in the first place."

Hermione shook her head. "I refuse to believe that the man who introduced me to the wizarding world, took me out shopping for my wand and taught me my first spell told the Ministry where to find us. You don't know him like I do!"

Bellatrix raised her eyebrow, her expression one of mockery. "You are so disgustingly naive, muddy," Bellatrix let out a brief, mocking cackle. "The clink of gold can do a lot to convince someone to conveniently forget all about morals or loyalty. There's no happy end here, mudpet. No pot of gold at the end of the fucking rainbow! Hope is as much a curse as any unforgivable. We are going to DIE TODAY! There's no other outcome!"

"For the last time," Hermione said, anger now soaring through her. "I have a name. It's HERMIONE! HER-MI-OH-NEE! IT'S NOT HARD! USE IT!"

The dark witch stiffened, her eyes shining dangerously as she stood tall, puffing herself up to look more dangerous. This time, it wouldn't work. Hermione stood her ground as Bellatrix glowered at her, chin raised imperiously. "I told you…" Bellatrix hissed. "I will call you whatever…"

"Oh, stop your posturing!" Hermione roared back. "You're not fooling anybody! You want to live as much as I do. Bella, you need to realize that there are good people in this world. And there is good in you as well! I've seen it. Why did you save me from the wyvern? Why did you save me from those snatchers back in the pub?"

Bellatrix stiffened. "Purely utilitarian, mudpet. I needed you…"

"Keep lying to yourself and you might start believing it someday," Hermione pressed. "I think you're worth fighting for. So let go of that self-loathing fatalism long enough to see what's right in front of you. I'm not giving up, not as long as there's even a remote chance. Not on life, not on fighting and I'm certainly not giving up on you. Especially not on you. Not after what we've shared. So no more talk about last stands or going out in a blaze of glory. We're going to survive this. Together."

To say that Bellatrix was stunned was the the understatement of the year. Her expression was a mix stricken abhorrence, abject terror and genuine hope. Wide, watery eyes and a slightly quivering lip. Hermione reached out and lay her hand on her cheek, sliding down to rest on her shoulder while the two witches pressed their foreheads together.

"Hermione…" Bellatrix whispered.

The next few minutes were spent gathering supplies, including all the food in the house and fresh sets of clothes, muggle money and stuffing it all into the rucksack which Hermione slung over her back after putting on her coat. Bellatrix did the same, though once again the evening gown she was wearing was perhaps not the best choice of clothing, even when covered with one of her grandmothers' long coats.

Hermione felt rather sad that her grandmother's house wasn't safe anymore when they slipped out the back door and entered the garden. Duncan lived some fifteen houses away. To avoid the street, they'd have to climb a few fences and cross a few yards carefully.

"Remember," Bellatrix hissed, her voice low. "You do _not_ want to be captured by these people. If they do, being put in Azkaban will be the least of your worries."

Hermione nodded grimly and, without further discussion, they made their way towards Duncan's house after a brief climb over the chest-high fence. The row of detached houses were built right next to each and not every yard was equally long. This allowed both witches to sneak behind a few houses until they came to the fence of a much larger yard. This particular fence was a little higher and Bellatrix went over first. After which, Hermione removed her rucksack and pushed it over the fence where Bellatrix deftly caught it. Then, it was her turn.

Hermione flung herself over the fence and landed on her feet. She looked around and, to her surprise, Bellatrix was nowhere in sight. The garden she was standing here was rather a mess with bushes everywhere, some seats which didn't looked to have been used for years and there was a crooked shed at the other side of the yard. Looking over at the house, all was silent. At least no one would make a fuss and attract unwanted attention.

"Bella?" Hermione whispered, too afraid to raise her voice too much, but there was no answer. Hearing an unknown voice, she pressed her back against the side of the house and peeked around the corner to view into the street. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no one, only to be acutely startled when a rather burly looking snatcher stepped into view from behind the nearby shed and let out a raspy laugh.

Hermione froze, staring at the man when he approached her. "Well," he chuckled, wand aimed at her. "Hello there, pretty."

Hermione held up her hands. "Just... leave me alone. I've done nothing to you."

"Aww," said the man as he was almost upon her. "Don't be like that "

Hermione recoiled when he stood in front of her and grabbed her by the chin, rather uncomfortably squeezing her jaw. "Let me have a little look at that pretty little face of yours. That lovely 10.000 galleons in my pocket face."

The young witch bristled and desperately sought for a way out, finding it in a nearby iron bucket used as a garden decoration. With the snatcher distracted, she wiggled her fingers and, with a burst of wandless magic, made the bucket fly straight towards his head. It made a resounding clang when it first collided with bone and then with stone tiles. The snatcher shouted and grasped his forehead, swearing loudly, while a now released Hermione jumped from his reach.

And there she was: Bellatrix rushed from the bushes to take his wand. Next, the dark witch quickly put her hand over his mouth and pressed the stolen wand against this side of his neck. It all happened so fast that Hermione barely had time to process it.

"Avada kadavra."

It was barely a whisper, but it was filled with poisonous malice and rage. A sickeningly green glow engulfed the snatcher and he sank to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"You… you killed him?" Hermione gulped.

"Better him than us," Bellatrix replied.

Hermione blinked when she realized just what Bellatrix had done. "Wait. You... you used me as bait?!"

"Yes," Bellatrix replied matter-of-factly. "Now stop complaining! It worked, didn't it?"

"You used me as bait!" Hermione bristled, though attempting to keep her voice down.

Bellatrix ignored her, however, clutching onto the death snatcher's wand and swinging it about for good measure, grinning like a little girl getting her hands on her Christmas presents. If Hermione had to be honest, it was a little bit terrifying. Still, their odds of actually making it through this had definitely improved now that at least one of them had a wand in hand.

"Come," said Hermione, kneeling down next to the snatcher and searched him. She found some galleons on him with she pocketed, and then grabbed his arm. "Let's hide the body in those bushes over there."

" _Now_ you're thinking," Bellatrix winked at her accomplice.

The two witches did so and continued on their way through the yard and over the fence. They finally arrived at Duncan's house. Like her nan's house, it was a cottage-like house with light brown walls and a slate roof, surrounded by trees in the yard. "Right," said Hermione. "Let me go in first. I'm quite sure seeing Bellatrix Lestrange in his living room might be startling."

"Ugh," Bellatrix rolled her eyes and clutched on to her stolen wand. "Wouldn't want to upset the pensioner. Fine, I'll stand guard here."

Hermione found the back door unlocked and stepped inside Duncan's kitchen. When she'd been younger, she'd been inside Duncan's house with her nan plenty of times and she was somewhat gratified to know that the place hadn't changed a bit. Though the kitchen was a bit messy, she could see part of the living room which was cluttered with photographs, knick knacks and a Scotsman sized whiskey cabinet. Oddly enough, there were quite a few pictures taken of herself and nan on display. Just as she was about to step into the living room, she was started when a shadow moved in front of her with surprising speed. A wand was now aimed at her forehead and its wielder...

"Hermione?" Duncan asked in sheer disbelief. "Oh, bloody hell, you startled me, bairn."

The old man embraced her, a gesture which Hermione returned. Looking over his shoulder, she could see an unconscious auror lying prone in the living room with Ainsley sniffing at him.

"Is that?" Hermione asked when she released Duncan.

"Nobody tells a Scotsman what to do in his own home! Especially not some English tosser!" Duncan narrowed his eyes. "Knocked him right on his arse, I did."

Hermione stepped over to the prone body and claimed his wand. Bellatrix had been right: it felt so good to hold a wand again.

"It's finally happening," Duncan sighed. "The Ministry's coming for us muggle-borns up north now. I was about to come over to Lydia's house to find you, but it seems you already found me."

"Duncan," said Hermione. "They're not looking for muggle-borns. They're looking for me. And my... friend. No, I shouldn't lie. My girlfiend. Have you read the papers, Duncan?"

"Nah," Duncan said. "Haven't read that rag in years. Though I suppose at least they're now honest about peddling propaganda for the Ministry."

Hermione felt it was best to bite the bullet. "Bella?" she called through the now open back there. "You can came in now. It's alright."

Duncan frowned when Bellatrix Lestrange entered through his kitchen. Of course he would recognize her, even if he didn't read the papers. Bellatrix was an infamous dark witch, after all. Hermione handed Duncan the newspaper she had picked up. The old wizard let his eyes rove over the paper's front page. Half a minute later, he tossed it onto the table. "You certainly aim high, Hermione. How much of it is true?"

"One thing is, at least," said Hermione, smiling briefly. "Bellatrix and I are... together."

Bellatrix crossed his arms and raised his chin imperiously, daring the old wizard to challenge her.

He did not.

"Well, takes all sorts, don't it?" Duncan chuckled. "A muggle-born and a Death Eater falling for each other. There might be hope for this world of ours yet if something like that can happen in these dark times."

Bellatrix gave the old wizard a nod while Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Duncan. Can... will you help us?"

"Of course I will," said Duncan. "I'm not sure how, though."

Bellatrix stepped forward, towards the front window and pressed her back against the wall to peek past the curtains. "Nobody is coming to check up on this idiot on the ground here, but that won't last," said Bellatrix. "We can't stay here either. The snatchers are using the auror's Ministry tactics, like I said. Secure known wizards, which thisone tried to and failed," she spoke in an appreciative tone. "Then blanket the town with an anti-apparation hex and close off all the floo access points. Brooms are out of the question too and if we flee on foot we'll pass through the hex and every snatcher in town will know where we are."

"Oh, it'll be a cold day in hell before I'll be letting those wallopers get their hands on Lydia's little granddaughter," Duncan spoke up before grinning. "I might have an idea."

After scooping up Ainsley, Duncan led both witches outside to his large shed and opened the double doors. Beyond them was a garage where Duncan enjoyed his hobby of tinkering with his car. The car, now covered with a brown tarp, stood proud and fierce inside the the garage.

"Is that?" Hermione said. "You still have that car?"

"Tuned up, in perfect condition," said Duncan after putting down Ainsley and pulled off the tarp with one swift motion. "You're looking at a 1959 Mark 1 Morris Mini Cooper. Built in Longbridge and built to last. They don't make cars like this anymore."

Hermione could see that for a car that old, Duncan had been taking very good care of it. When she'd been a little girl, this car was little more than a wreck which Duncan had put quite a bit of time and effort in to restore. When she'd been sixteen, he had taken her and her nan out for a drive in it. This car was Duncan's pride and joy, painted in a fresh coat of dark green paint and even though Hermione was no expert on cars, she still recognized high-grip profile tyres when she saw them.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Why are we looking at this thing?! How is this going to help us?!"

"Oh," Duncan chuckled. "We're not taking a magical way out of this town at all. This car isn't enchanted. The magic would only ruin it."

"You mean to outwit auror and snatchers in a non-enchanted muggle device?!" Bellatrix blinked "You're daft, old man! They'll outrun us before we even get to the countryside!"

Duncan laughed. "This a is classic mini cooper with a 360 BHP turbocharged engine. I'd like to see them _try_!"

The downside of a mini cooper was actually getting inside of it. Duncan opened the door and folded the seat forward so that Bellatrix could climb in. The dark witch looked decidedly uncomfortable sat on the old olive-colored leather seats. Hermione first handed her the rucksack, which Bellatrix shifted next to her on the backseat.

"Here," Duncan said, handing Bellatrix his dog. "Take good care of Ainsley, would you?"

If Bellatrix looked uncomfortable before, she looked downright abhorred to sit in the backseat of a magicless muggle device while holding on to an ancient Scottie dog. Hermione jumped into the passenger seat, fastening her seat belt while Duncan jump behind the steering column and put the key in the ignition. As soon as he turned it, the car came to life.

Hermione frowned at Duncan, who only grinned. This car's engine was making sounds the engine of a car this size shouldn't make. The moment Duncan put his foot on the peddle, Hermione found herself pressed back into the seat as it shot out of the garage with screeching tyres. Duncan laughed when he threw the wheel to one side, and shot onto the road with a speed of about seventy miles per hour.

Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Bellatrix sat in the back stiff as a board, white as a sheet of paper and completely oblivious to the fact that Ainsley was licking her chin. As the car picked up even more speed and lay on the road with surprising grip, houses, cars and trees whipped by. It gave Hermione hope that they would actually escape the small army of snatchers which were undoubtedly spread out all over Banchory.

Faster and faster went the mini, which was a little disconcerting for Hermione. Certainly a lot a of countries had very nice and predictable roads, but unfortunately they were dealing with British roads in this country and British roads were, for the most part, very bendy, very up down and very narrow. None of these were suited for a speeding car. Duncan, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself as he made a turn with screeching tyres.

An odd sensation passed through Hermione for a moment and behind her, she should hear Bellatrix tense up. "We're just passed the barrier they set up around the town," said Bellatrix, now pushing her face against the window to look at the skies. "They're on to us now."

"They'll have to find us first," said Duncan as he made another turn, causing both occupants and a single dog to slide sharply to the right. "There won't be as many to deal with than if we'd tried this on foot."

It didn't take long for the snatchers to investigate. "I see them," said Bellatrix. "Four.. no, five broom-riders! Snatchers, all of them! We're in luck!"

"How is being chased by five snatchers on broom while sat in a speeding mini equate to being in luck?!" Hermione demanded.

"Because they're greedy rotters, they are!" Bellatrix chuckled. "They're unlikely to call for back-up because they'll want to claim the price on our heads all for themselves. Oh, snatchers are so predicable. How do I open this window?!"

"Turn the little lever on the side," said Duncan just before taking another turn with screeching tires. Hermione looked over to her side and lowered her own window as well: she had a wand and she would use it.

"Hold it still, old man!" Bellatrix demanded as she squeezed her upper body out of the window. With wand in hand, Hermione could see an angry wreath of flame starting to take shape around Bellatrix's arm. Like an undulating wave of fire, the dark witch grit her teeth as the magical fire started building up. While letting out a wailing grunt from the depths of her lungs, Bellatrix released her spell. The fireball shot up into the sky like a reverse meteor and exploded right in the middle of the five broom-riders. Two riders were taken out immediately, plummeting to the ground as raging balls of flame, undoubtedly startling a few sheep in the process.

It was a stark reminder for Hermione to see just how deadly Bellatrix could be.

"Nice one, Bella!" Duncan said, cheering her on. Above them the three remaining broom-riders scattered and dove down to avoid any further literal incoming fire.

"Feels good to let go!" Bellatrix cackled heartily. In truth, it was a little frightening.

Magic started raining down upon them, bolts of energy slamming into the asphalt in front, besides and behind them. "They're firing at us!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Are you really surprised, mudpet?" Bellatrix yelled. "I just set two of them ablaze!"

By now, Duncan was swerving the mini back and forth to make themselves harder to hit. Even so, while Bellatrix was retaliating, Hermione yelped when a bolt of power came slamming through the roof of the car and ripped through the upholstery of the back seat. "Fu..." Hermione exclaimed while Duncan made another hard bank to the left. Unfortunately, this sudden move made Bellatrix lose her balance. The dark witch slipped and threatened to slide out of the window. The moment Bellatrix yelped, Hermione shot over towards the back-seat and managed to grab hold of Bellatrix's coat before she could toppled out of the car: with this speed, such a fall would undoubtedly be a lethal one. Hampered and held back by her seat-belt, the angle Hermione was in was less than comfortable and she was struggling to pull Bellatrix back into the car by her coat.

Two things shot through Hermione mind while struggling to safe her Bellatrix: one, a snatcher was now riding his broom alongside the car on Bellatrix's side, grinning at both of them. Second, something was fast approaching on the other side of the road.

"Lorry!" Hermione shouted. "LORRY!"

"I see it, bairn! I see it!" Duncan said and steered sharply to the left again. Whatever leeway Hermione had made on pulling Bellatrix back inside was lost again. And now the snatcher had drawn a wand of his own while she was completely defenseless. Hermione had to act. The young witch reluctantly released one of her hands from Bellatrix's coat and aimed her own wand, whispering a quick confundus charm. The snatcher blinked once, twice and then looked around rather dully as his broom drifted off.

The mini narrowly missed the oncoming lorry.

The snatcher, however, did not.

The last thing Hermione saw of him was when he collided with the front of the lorry, flying straight through the windshield. Time froze as Hermione felt all the blood drain from her cheeks. By now, Bellatrix had managed to get herself back inside the mini and grinned at Hermione.

"Did..." Hermione stammered. "Did I just kill someone?"

"Yes!" said Bellatrix, grabbing Hermione by the cheeks and kissing her forehead. "You did _great_ , pet!"

"He might make it," said Duncan. "Still, if he didn't, it was him or us, bairn."

That didn't make Hermione feel any better, but still she could only hope for the best. Meanwhile, the two remaining snatchers were more determined than ever to stop them. One magic bolt shot through the car from the back window, through the front seat and out the windshield, sending shards of glass flying through the car. It had just missed Hermione by a hair. The second snatcher got clever and created magical frozen patches on the road in front of the car. Duncan swore loudly when the mini passed over a frozen puddle and he almost lost control of the car. Before the mini could go into a mad spin, Duncan managed to regain control by yanking at the wheel as hard as he could while making rather coarse insinuations about English people and sheep in the field.

"Haha!" he yelled out. "This is a fecking mini cooper, you bastards! It'll take whatever you throw at them!"

"Duncan, don't encourage them!" Hermione yelled.

"HAH!" Bellatrix cackled heartily, seemingly rather enjoying herself. "I'm finding out that mudbloods have their uses. Even barmy old ones!"

"Oi," Duncan bristled. "Watch your goddamn language, you Sassenach pure-blood cunt!"

If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd say that Duncan and Bellatrix were starting to like each other. Still, she didn't have much time to think about it. A snatcher, a rather dodgy looking female one with whipping red hair, was riding her broom sidelong the mini and this time there weren't any lorries to help them out.

Duncan tried to swerve and push her off the road, but the witch was a good rider and simply flew up whenever the car got too close. Still, Bellatrix wasn't one to sit by and let things happen. The moment the red-haired witch lowered her broom again, a bolt of power shot from Bellatrix's wand. The magic wasn't aimed at the rider, however, but rather at the passenger side door. The magic made the door shoot off its hinges like a projectile and Hermione could hear the red-haired witch let out at yelp when it hit her straight in the face. The witch lost control of her broom and slammed right into the stone fence along the side of the road, door and all.

"Hah!" said Duncan. "So pure-bloods have their uses after all! I thought all you lot were good for is sitting on a pile of money in posh houses blaming everyone else for yer own shortcomings while you're shagging your cousins."

"Oi, I'd never even consider shagging my cousin!" Bellatrix retorted.

"Duncan, behind us!" Hermione yelled out. Indeed, the last snatcher was now behind them. Duncan was driving at top speed now, and the broom-rider had trouble keeping up. Just as Duncan was having more and more trouble keeping the car under control since the road was starting to get a little hilly. More than once, the car was briefly airborne and crashed back onto the asphalt while the back of the car was being bombarded with magic.

"Right," Duncan grinned. Hermione did not like that grin. "Bella, there's no seat-belts in the back, so cast a cushioning charm on yourself. Hermione, grab Ainsley and hold on tight."

Both witches did as Duncan asked. "Ready?" Duncan asked. "Hold on to your arses!"

Duncan stepped onto the brakes. Spinning tires came to a complete stop and the car came to a halt with a screeching wail. Hermione held on the dog as she shot forward, the seat-belt crushing the air out of her lungs. Bellatrix didn't fare much better without seat-belts, slamming her entire body into the front seats but was thankfully fully protected by the cushioning charm.

The snatcher behind them, however, left a wizard-sized dent into the mini's boot before landing onto the asphalt. Hermione's mind was reeling and felt like she was about to throw up. The sickening smell of burning rubber didn't help much either in that regard.

Ainsley barked slightly while Duncan let out a groan: he'd hit his head on the steering column. "Ugh," he muttered. "You both alright? Is Ainsley?"

"We're fine," said Hermione. "So is Ainsley."

From the backseat came a mighty cackle. "I'm impressed, Hermione. This old git is crazier than I am!"

"Right," said Duncan and starting driving again. The car's engine definitely sounded a lot more strained than it had before and the lack of a passenger seat door were letting a lot of cold air in Still, they were alive and unharmed for the most part. That was a victory at least. "Lets put some distance between us and Banchory just to be on the safe side. How about we head up north? A mate of mine owns a pub in Huntly."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione closed her eyes. "God, I'm so glad that's over."

"Oh, my sweet pet," cackled Bellatrix. "That was exhilarating! Don't tell me that didn't make you feel alive, Hermione!"

Hermione turned her head towards her dark lover to give her an incredulous look. " _Being alive_ makes me feel alive, Bella!"

The dark witch let out a groan while rolling her eyes. "Honestly, how can someone your age manage to be so completely boring?"

Hermione bristled. "It's a gift," she muttered wryly.

* * *

With wand out, Bellatrix and a vanguard of Order members among which was her niece, jumped out into the Ministry Department of International Magical Cooperation. The woman, a once fellow Death Eater known as Penelope, whom had let her in wore a purple armband identifying her as a defector to the invading forces.

Bellatrix had known Penelope quite well: a statuesque stunner of a woman, this witch was a few years younger than Bellatrix was and, like many other Death Eaters, had genuinely believed she was making the wizarding world a better place for her children: children she would never have because of their defeat and subsequent imprisonment at Azkaban. Later in life, Penelope would find adopt, but that was still years from now.

Bellatrix briefly wondered if that crazy old Scot Duncan was already on his hurried flight out of Banchory with that muggle car of his. It was such a pity that Hermione would never find out that Duncan was her real grandfather until after his death: Hermione had always lacked the savvy to put two and two together why he and her grandmother had always been such close 'friends'.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. The plan to assault and take back the Ministry was a three-pronged assault: Moody and his most talented aurors would assault level two, where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was located and where they'd find the most resistance. This was why the diversion was needed: by now, her younger self and Hermione had been declared High Value Targets due to her perceived betrayal, so most of the snatchers had been sent to Banchory. This left parts of the Ministry undefended.

While Moody was assaulting the Magical Law Enforcement, a smaller group led by Kingsley and Lupin were to capture the Department of Magical Transportation on level 6. When all their forces were inside Ministry grounds, they would shut down the floo network completely and cut off the Ministry from any and all reinforcements from the outside.

Meanwhile, she and Nymphadora, along with the smallest group of Order volunteers, were to capture the Department of International Magical Cooperation on level 5. Under Voldemort's regime, this department was operating under a skeleton crew and the level was quite defensible. As soon as IMC had been taken, they'd bring in the curse-breakers to free the Ministry workers under the Imperius curse. The idea was that together these curse-breakers would perform a ritual which would encompass the entire Ministry: risky and it was likely not everyone would be affected, but it was their best shot.

The corridors of the Ministry were silent for the most part, as Bellatrix and their small group made their way towards the main offices. They passed the Atrium, the large center area which went all the way from level 1 down to level 9 to give the workers underground some sense of space. All the way down was the Magic is Might statue and judging from some of the lights flashing upward at level 2, Moody and his lot were giving the corrupt aurors one hell of a fight.

Finally, they came upon the center office of the IMC: she and Dora, along with Penelope and their small group, took positions on either side of the double doors leading into the center office. On the count of three, the group burst through and all fired off some wild stunners into the room. Of course, most of those missed, but they had the effect of startling everyone inside. Then, the group of rebels took aim for the workers to swiftly stun or disable them.

Some tried to hide behind their desks, but Bellatrix whipped her wand upwards, causing a wave of magical power to surge through the room, throwing desks and furniture about and removing any form of cover. These were just employees and didn't last long against battle-hardened Order members. With some dozen workers now subdued and bound by magical rope, the group when to arrange the room to receive the curse-breakers.

"Right," said Bellatrix to her niece. "I need to make a stop at administration on level 10."

"Stop!" Nymphadora stepped in front of her, wand in hand. "You _need_ to stay here and help us keep the curse-breakers safe. They're vital to the plan."

"You've got all the people you need," replied Bellatrix, crossing her arms. "I am going to administration."

"The plan is for us to secure all three of our target levels first, then move to administration as a group," said Nymphadora. "There's Death Eaters down there, dementors. More than you can take on your own."

"I can handle myself, Nymphadora," Bellatrix pressed.

Her niece bristled at the sound of her own name. "Oh, you're just doing that to piss me off, right? Well, it's working."

"I am _going_."

"I was told not to leave you out of my sight."

"Heh, after all that Moody still doesn't trust me."

"You blame him?"

"I suppose not," said Bellatrix. "Dora. You know I'm from the future. So believe me when I say I need to be in administration. If I don't..."

"Ugh, FINE!" said Nymphadora. "Just don't get yourself killed or my mum will never let me hear the end of it."

Bellatrix gave her a nod and sped off into the corridor. She'd already lost precious time so she picked up the pace and found the staircase down, taking down two of three steps at a time. Level 10 was a closely guarded floor, especially now when under Voldemort's control. Still, she had over a year to memorize the lay-out of this floor and had prepared for this moment since day one: she could navigate the way to the administration level with her eyes closed if she'd have to.

The first hurdle was the security station at the main and only entrance of the level, at the bottom of the staircase. Three guards were on duty at the guard station, but they seemed bored and unobservant. Bellatrix grinned: that would change soon.

With wand out, she cast a charm on her clothes. The charm would refract light: it wasn't as good as, say, an invisibility cloak, but to the casual observer, she would look like a shimmer or an out-of-place shadow. After casting a triple confundus charm in rapid succession, Bellatrix crouch-walked forward and through the checkpoint right under their noses.

The charm lasted only as long as was necessary to slip by and Bellatrix found herself skulking through the corridors, keeping close to the side walls. There were three places where she needed to be. First, the offices of the education board. If Cissy had done what Bellatrix had asked, Lucius would be there. Thankfully, the education board offices weren't too far away. Bellatrix skulked through the corridors, avoiding workers and guards alike and when she entered the education board, it was obvious that she had reached the posh part of the ministry. Red carpets, expensive hard wood furniture and paintings by Dutch masters lined the wall: apparently the education budget was going to everything _except_ education. A gilded name plaque reading 'Lucius Malfoy' meant she had reached her destination.

Bellatrix didn't hesitate for a moment: with a swift kick, she opened the door and rushed inside wand in hand. A startled Lucius Malfoy sat behind his desk and looked up, his hand hovering near a desk drawer.

"Who are you?!" he demanded.

"Don't even think about going for the wand in your desk drawer," hissed Bellatrix from behind her mask. "You aren't faster than I am."

"I don't want any trouble," he raised his hand again. "What do you want? Money? Wait... you... you're the one who assaulted my mansion!"

Bellatrix fished a purple armband from her pouch and threw it at him. "Put that on," he said after he caught it. "You are now a defector."

His eyes grew wide and he threw the armband on the table. "I am not a traitor!"

"You are according to the list I've given to the Order," chuckled Bellatrix. "A list I've added your name to. If anyone asks, you were brought under the imperius curse."

"Who ever are you?!" he demanded.

Bellatrix sighed and raised one hand to slide up her mask, revealing herself to him. "Moody and his forces are assaulting the Ministry as we speak. That security forces haven't figured this out yet is a small miracle in itself. Antonin is the ring-leader of the Death Eater defectors and you will join them on level 2."

"So, it's true then," Lucius chuckled. "I couldn't believe it, not even when the Dark Lord himself cursed your name. You of all people? And for a _mudblood_?!"

"There aren't many things I wouldn't do for Hermione," Bellatrix smiled in spite of herself.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "You seem different. Calmer. I see it in your eyes."

"Cissy will explain it to you," replied Bellatrix. "And you know what I see in your eyes? I see that you're still willing to take your chances with grabbing that wand from your drawer, stunning me and dragging me in front of the Dark Lord to try to regain your lost status. But if you try, you will spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. I asked Cissy to convince you to go to work every day for this very moment to happen. Oh yes, she is with me. She is a defector too."

A flash of panic crossed his features.

"Deep in your heart, you know that supporting the Dark Lord is a lost cause," said Bellatrix. "Antonin, Rookwood, Rowle, Penelope, Myranda, Benweth. They all wanted out. Wear that armband and you can count yourself among them. Spend the rest of your days with your wife and son instead of in a cell."

Lucius looked at the armband and then back at her. "You are not the same Bellatrix I know."

Bellatrix chuckled before replacing her mask. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said. "Remember. Head to level 2. Ignore the alert."

"What alert?"

"Oh, you'll know," said Bellatrix, holding her wand as she quietly slipped out of the office. And that was her little sister's future secured: Lucius would vaingloriously declare himself a defector after the war, retire from Ministry life and become a philanthropist. And Draco would finally get that little sister he'd been asking for since he was five.

But there was no time to dwell on that. It was time for Bellatrix to head to the security center, which was only a few corridors away. So far, Bellatrix was facing disappointingly little resistance and the Ministry alarms still hadn't gone off despite the fact that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was likely completely in tatters by now. She found out why soon enough when she arrived at the security center.

The security center was mostly a large room where the walls were lined with magical mirrors showing various areas of the Ministry. On several mirrors, the attacks on the different levels were clearly happening. Unfortunately for the Ministry and _fortunately_ for the Order invaders, the five security officers were far too engrossed in their game of poker to actually notice the ongoing invasion.

Well... it was nice to know that Ministry Incompetence was of all times and on all levels. And it was also nice to know that even with foreknowledge of events, good old-fashioned luck hadn't gone out of style.

Time to act. Bellatrix threw the door open and yelled her arcane words: "Spectris Malleus!"

Before the security officers had any idea what was happening, a huge spectral hammer formed above the table and slammed head first downward, crushing the table into splinters and throwing the security officers back. Lashing out her wand, she propelled two of them into the wall with bone-crushing force, wand-whipped a third one around the neck and threw him into the two witches left standing, following it up with heavy stunners. The whole thing was over in less than five seconds.

Small wonder that the Death Eaters had been able to take over the Ministry so easily. After making sure that the security staff were out for the count, she stepped over to the control panel underneath the mirror. The large red button would activate the Ministry alert and would allow her to have howlers delivered to all levels of the Ministry with a specific message. Without hesitation, she punched the red button and spoke. "Alert. This is not a drill. Ministry invasion is in effect. All security personnel proceed to level 4, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. All non-security personnel are to stay inside their officers and lock the doors. The situation will be under control shortly. Repeat, this is not a drill!"

Next to her, in a magical cabinet, some twenty magical quills were writing the recorded message onto forty howlers simultaneously and, a few seconds later, the cabinet opened and the howlers shot out the door in enchanted airplane form to wherever it was they were supposed to go to.

Good. Now it was time to move to her final destination and for that she'd have to move very deeply into the complex of level 10. It was basically the Death Eater command center and where Yaxley would be.

She'd have to pass through the courtrooms where the Muggle-born Registration Commission was being held: Yaxley always had been a lazy git, so his office would be quite near where he'd usually do his sadistic work. After making sure the security suite was sealed behind her, she made her way deeper into the complex. From this point on, there was only one way to approach the courtrooms and no way to avoid anyone on approach. She ran into just such a problem when she heard voices approach from further into the corridors: she quickly dove into an alcove and pressed her back against the wall, hoping the shadows would obscure her. A squad of security personnel passed her by as they ran towards the stairs to answer the alarm. Bellatrix counted six... eight... twelve people. Too much for her to take on by herself: though she could probably manage it with some difficulty, it would cost her far too much time.

Bellatrix watched them leave and remained silent for a while, listening for any further people approaching.

Silence. Comfortable silence.

The dark witch grasped her wand and quickly made her way into Courtroom 10 where she stumbled upon another problem. No court was in session at the moment, the occupants of the room apparently having fled back to their offices. That, however, did not account for the trio of dementors floating in her way. Bellatrix stiffened and stared the creatures down, old anxieties returning to the surface. Yes, she had survived years of Azkaban, but in those days there had been a lot of darkness within her. After twenty years of healing and happiness, there was a lot for these creatures to feast upon, and these were all memories and feelings she did _not_ want to lose.

The three spectres, their tattered robes billowing around them, floated menacingly towards her. This time, however, Bellatrix was ready for them. "Fuck off," she hissed in sheer malice, raising her wands and performing the necessary complex wand movements. "Expecto... Patronum."

A translucent black swan came forth, flying towards the trio of dementors and caused the three of them to scatter off into the corridors beyond.

Bellatrix took a few deep breaths. "That's right!" she called after them. "Get your jollies elsewhere!"

With grim determination, she shot forward to the office space behind courtroom 10, where Yaxley had his office. The moment she stepped through archway, she barely had enough time to bring her barriers up before a bolt headed straight towards her head could sear the flesh right off her skull.

Yaxley's office was much like the man himself: messy, blunt and overbearingly domineering. His desk stood on a raised dais, forcing people to always look up to him when they came into his office. He stood there, wand raised while Bellatrix was poised to defend herself.

"You!" Yaxley snarled her her. "You don't exist! You're a myth!"

"Yet here I am," said Bellatrix, disguising her voice a little.

A killing curse followed. Yaxley should have known better. A twist of her wand sent a potted plant arcing through the air right in the path of the incoming curse.

"Really?" Bellatrix mocked as she circled him.

"Come for another Death Eater scalp?" Yaxley chuckled... a little too nervously.

"I thought I was a myth," Bellatrix shrugged.

"I thought Bellatrix was loyal too, until you took her," Yaxley returned. "How long have you two been working together, hm? Are you one of her mudblood lovers?"

Bellatrix took in that little accusation and simply couldn't help herself. The statement was just too absurd for her to not laugh at it. Her body started to shake and she threw her head back in sheer cackling laughter. She supposed it must have been an odd look for her to stick her beak-shaped mask right up into the air while she giggled heartily.

"W-wh... stop laughing!" Yaxley demanded, seizing the opening to launch another attack. Due to Bellatrix being distracted, this one actually hit. The dark witch grunted as she felt as if she'd been kicked in the chest by a mule and wheezed as she managed to get her barrier up to prevent another impact.

"How are you still standing after that hit?!" he demanded.

"Merlin, Yaxley," she managed through laboured breath. "You were always a stupid idiot, but I didn't think you were _this_ stupid."

"W-who are you?!" he demanded, raising his wand again to strike. But before any more spells could be cast a magical bubble expanded through the room. Yaxley was surprised as it passed through them both, Bellatrix feeling a slight static tingle through her entire body.

"Feel that?" Bellatrix chuckled underneath her mask. "That's a curse-breaker ritual freeing every single Ministry worker and auror you and your lackeys have brought under the Imperius curse. You're finished, Yaxley. The Ministry is no longer under your control. You're going to die here today."

Realizing just what was happening and just how far away he was from any means of escape, Yaxley was looking rather nervous.

"You misunderstand me," said Bellatrix. "I'm here to get you _out_ of this mess."

The dark witch reached into her pouch and took out a tiny anvil, small enough to hold in her hand. With a wary Yaxley still trailing his wand on her, she stepped forward and put it on his desk. For all intents and purposes this little anvil looking right at home on the desk as a paperweight.

"That is a portkey," said Bellatrix. "One especially designed and enchanted by my wife just for you. It'll punch right through all the Ministry defenses and deposit you in the streets near Elephant and Castle. From there, you'll be able to make it back to the Dark Lord. But really, you shouldn't linger too long. Half of the witches and wizards in the Ministry right now are howling for your blood. Take the portkey and bugger off before they'll hang you from the Magic is Might statue in the atrium or feed you to the nearest Dementor."

"Why?" Yaxley asked warily.

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I need a message delivered. To your precious Dark Lord. Tell him... Tell him I have one of his horcruxes and that I know where the rest of them are."

Yaxley seemed confused. "What does that even mean?" he demanded. Of course he wouldn't know. None of them had been privy to the Dark Lord's most guarded secret. For if they were, likely none of them would have ever followed him in the first place.

"Oh, he'll know," said Bellatrix, smirking underneath her mask. "Now bugger off before you get slaughtered."

In the distance, she could hear people approaching. Yaxley too, it seemed. He took a deep breath and grabbed the portkey. The little anvil did what Hermione would say and transported him directly out of the Ministry and into the streets of Elephant and Castle. However, what Bellatrix _hadn't_ mentioned was that due to the nature of the breaching charms, the trip would be excruciatingly painful. Considering that the portkey was for a non-reformed Death Eater Lieutenant, Hermione hadn't bothered to research a way to dull the pain for the traveler. But she supposed Yaxley would find out soon enough.

"What are you doing here?!" demanded Moody as he and a small group of aurors rushed into the office. "You're supposed to be upstairs guarding the curse-breakers."

"Dora had it covered," said Bellatrix. "I had some things to do. Like misdirecting security to the wrong location."

Moody, looking rather haggard after was seemed to be a prolonged magical battle at the auror office, adjusted his now singed and torn coat. There were some wounds on his person and, when following Bellatrix's gaze, he shrugged. "Ain't got time to bleed," he muttered. "Where is Yaxley?"

"Made it out before I could get to him," Bellatrix pointed to the little anvil. "Portkey. One use only. Not sure where it went."

"Damn," Moody growled. "No matter. He won't escape and we'll get him later. For now, the Ministry is ours once more. We've dealt You-Know-Who a great blow today and we have you to thank for it, 'Batman'."

Bellatrix nodded. Endgame had begun now.

"Come," said Moody. "We must speak in private."


	17. Self-possessed

Driving through the high street of the small township of Huntly, Hermione noticed that their passing was turning a lot of heads. Perhaps because the car was missing a door? But once they arrived at the Gordon Arms, the pub and hotel which belonged to Duncan's friend, it the full extend of the damage to the car was laid bare. Small wonder people turned their heads when they passed.

"Well, my poor mini has seen better days," sighed Duncan as he regarded his nearly wrecked car. All windows were shattered, a door was missing, there were holes and dents all over the chassis and a large spot on the side of the car had the paint molten and metal warped from the heat of Bellatrix's fire spells.

Of course, Hermione had been rather cold during the trip due to a missing door. Though she supposed they were lucky that they hadn't been pulled over by a police cruiser. They would undoubtedly been asked questions they had no reasonable answers to.

"I'm sorry, Duncan," Hermione pursed her lips. "I know how much you loved that car."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Cars can be repaired. Lives are much harder. And if this was indeed her last ride, at least she died well."

Meanwhile, since the mini lacked a backseat door, Bellatrix was struggling with folding the front seats forward. "Will someone please let me out?!" Bellatrix demanded, looking about ready to grab her wand and blast the seat out of her way to free herself.

Hermione stepped over to the car and pulled the latch to release Bellatrix from the car. The dark witch swiftly exited the car and stretched her legs a little. Ainsley, the ancient Scottie dog, jumped out of the car after her after having spent most of the trip being stroked while sleeping in Bellatrix' lap.

After all the events of today, it felt good to be able to get a bit of a rest to figure out what to do next. The Gordon Arms offered a good selection of pub grub and had some rooms to rent. Food and sleep would be a good start for now. After Duncan had spent some time chatting with his friend tending the bar, the trio ordered their food and selected a cozy table near the back of the restaurant area. Soon enough, Bellatrix digging into her steak and chips, while she and Duncan had opted for a more traditional Haggis.

Ainsley had fallen asleep from the excitement, collapsed on the bench right next to Bellatrix. Hermione didn't miss the little detail that the dark witch often reached down to give the sleeping dog some scratches behind the ear.

"So," said Duncan. "The muggle-born and the Death Eater. How did this come to be, hm?"

While Bellatrix was eating, Hermione turned to look at her. The dark witch's only answer was a shrug: implicit permission to tell their tale. So tell it, Hermione did and decided not to hold back on the more outlandish part of the tale: it all started with a time-traveling future Bellatrix whom had ended up putting the both of them in a situation where they'd been forced to depend on each other. She told of their trek through Cairngorms, the encounter with the wyvern, the snatchers, hiding in Banchory and, during their travels, developing romantic feelings. Bellatrix did jump in when there was something said she didn't agree with, but mostly kept to her food. Through it all, Duncan listened patiently. One thing Hermione kept out of the story was most of the abuse Bellatix had inflicted upon her during the early days of their tip and Bellatrix was wise enough not to correct her. Hermione suspected Duncan would not take too kindly to that.

"Well," said Duncan. "Takes all sorts, doesn't it? Two very different people can find love under extraordinary circumstances."

"That leaves us to decide what to do now," Hermione said. "Part of me wants to rejoin my friends. The Order of the Phoenix."

Bellatrix shook her head. "They'll never trust me, pet," she said. "They'd lock me up."

"They wouldn't," said Hermione, but even she didn't manage to sound convinced of that.

Bellatrix snorted. "Lie to yourself if you want to, but don't insult my intelligence."

"Perhaps that fish-wrapper of a newspaper had the right idea. You two should flee the country," said Duncan. "What happened in Banchory is a pretty clear indication that the UK isn't safe for you anymore."

"It was already unsafe for muggle-borns," said Hermione. "But now that I'm linked to Bellatrix's treason..."

" _Perceived_ treason!" Bellatrix hissed angrily.

"I stand corrected," Hermione said quickly. "Point remains, if I'm captured my life is over. And You-Know-Who still owns the UK."

"A lot of muggle-borns have fled the country through muggle means," Duncan chuckled. "It's a bit of a blind spot for those pure-blood feckers. No offense, Bella."

"None taken."

"Inverness airport is fairly nearby," Duncan shrugged. "You can get to plenty of countries from there. Or you take the ferry to the Netherlands at Newcastle. I hear the Dutch Ministry is granting asylum to muggle-borns from the UK. They might extend that to pure-blood tra... uhm, political refugees."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Nice save," she said. "Like I said, pet, we can make for Switzerland. The Black family owns a chalet there and Swiss neutrality extends to the wizarding world."

Hermione shook her head. "Running away still feels wrong. And you know as well as I that You-Know-Who will never stop."

"It will at least give us some time to figure things out," said Bellatrix.

There was another thing Hermione wanted to address. "Duncan," said Hermione. "We dragged you into all this and you're now implicated. Come with us. You're no longer safe either."

Duncan snorted. "I was born in Scotland," he spoke resolutely. "I will die in Scotland. I will not have some snake-faced arse chase me out of my home, bairn."

"Duncan," Hermione pouted. "Don't be so stubborn. I..."

"I am an old man," said Duncan. "I know Scotland better than anyone and I have friends everywhere. If they come for me, I'll give them the merriest of chases."

Hermione was about to throw more arguments to Duncan to try to convince the old man to join their flight out of the country, when suddenly Bellatrix let out a strangled yelp. Her fork hit the plate with a clank as she grabbed her left forearm, clutching it gently while her face contorted in twisted pain. She grit her teeth and doubled over.

"Bella!" Hermione exclaimed and shifted to sit next to her while Duncan looked on in concern. "What's happening?"

Bellatrix hissed and rolled up her sleeve. Her Dark Mark. Her Dark Mark was an angry red, writhing across her skin while tufts of smoke rose from her arm along with the smell of burning flesh. "It's him," Bellatrix managed through laboured breath, her voice an octave higher. "Oh, Merlin it hurts..."

"What's he doing?" Hermione demanded.

"He's calling us," Bellatrix hissed. "Commanding us to come to him. All of us. He's ordering us to return to his side."

"Don't listen!" Hermione spoke with desperation on her voice.

"Y-you don't know... you don't know what you're asking..." Bellatrix bit her lip. Hard. "Oh, Circe's tits, it hurts..."

Duncan looked on with a frown while Ainsley, now woken up, had started to growl at Bellatrix's forearm: apparently, the dog had picked up on the foul magics emanating from it. "You're not planning to answer that call, are you?" Duncan asked warily.

"I am many things, but I am not suicidal," said Bellatrix, a grin briefly playing on her expression before her face contorted in pain again. But Hermione wasn't fooled. Even now, Bellatrix was torn.

Duncan and Hermione helped Bellatrix get to the rooms they had rented. A few minutes later, the worst of the effects from the Dark Mark activating had passed, but after Duncan left after making sure the two of them would be alright, Hermione was left in their room with a rather demure Bellatrix.

Bellatrix was restless, that much was certain. Pacing, hugging her arms to her chest, muttering unintelligible words to herself. It worried Hermione.

While the young witch was taking off her shoes, Bellatrix was stood in front of the mirror, grasping at the dark mark of her forearm.

"He keeps calling," Bellatrix whispered harshly. "Every part of my mind is screaming at me to go to him."

"Ignore it," Hermione replied.

Bellatrix shook her head. "You don't realize what wearing this mark entails, my sweet mudpet." There was defeatism in Bellatrix's voice, as well as a hint of fear. Without looking at her, Bellatrix placed her hands on the dresser and let out a brief sigh. "You don't need me anymore. You have the old man now to look after you. Perhaps... perhaps I could go to him. Explain. Maybe convince him to leave you be somehow."

"Don't," Hermione whispered and approached Bellatrix. Two arms wrapped Bellatrix's waist, holding her tight. "Please don't go. Stay here. With me."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed, laying her head back a little. A mess of dark curls tickled Hermione's cheek. "After all the things that happened, you still want me to stay," the dark witch chuckled. "You've really have lost your mind, muddy."

Bellatrix turned around in the embrace, wrapped one arm around Hermione and lay a hand on her cheek. "Make no mistake," Bellatrix grinned at her. "I have claimed you. You are mine."

Hermione smiled at Bellatrix. She figured it must be some sort of pure-blood thing. Merely saying something to claim a partner or maybe there was some sort of magic involved or not. Perhaps it was was because she had taken her virginity or perhaps simply a cultural thing. She'd have to ask Ron about it next time she'd seen him.

Ron.

Oh god, she'd have some explaining to do. And to Harry. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure where to start with this one.

For now, she'd focus on Bellatrix and Bellatrix alone. The dark witch was stroking her face now. "Have you ever lost someone, Hermione? Have you?"

Hermione nodded. "My nan. You already know I was gutted."

Bellatrix smiled briefly. "Not to diminish your loss, my sweet mudpet, but your nan was an old woman who, by your account, lived a full and happy life. No, Hermione, I mean have you ever lost someone who has been cut away from you in their prime with a full future ahead of them? A future you were planning to spend together?"

Hermione realized that was talking about her Death Eater lover and perhaps even her unborn child. She could only shake her head no.

"Take that feeling you felt when your nan passed on," Bellatrix said, her voice cracking slightly. "Now triple it. I never want to feel like that ever again."

Hermione blinked. Was Bellatrix saying that she wanted to build a future with _her_? And that she feared losing _her_? "That's no reason for giving up," said Hermione. "That's no reason to go back to _him_. What do you think it will accomplish? You expect him to listen to you? You expect him to leave me alone just like that?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "No," Bellatrix said. "But he'll kill me and spare me the anguish."

"Bella," Hermione felt tears stinging in her eyes. Right now, Bellatrix was vulnerable, hopeless and perhaps even afraid. Hermione knew those feelings quite well. Again, her hand went to her dark mark. "No," Hermione whispered, taking her gently by the wrist. "Ignore it. Focus on me. I'm here for you."

The two of them lay down on the bed and this time, Bellatrix wasn't taking control. She needed to be held. She needed to be comforted. She needed to feel loved. Hermione held her tightly, pressing her body against hers, a gesture which Bellatrix more than welcomed.

Their lips met in a soft kiss while Hermione ran a hand through Bellatrix's mass of dark curls, stroking gently. The dark witch was still shivering. From pain? From fear? She supposed the two were interchangable now. A soft kiss deepened quickly as Bellatrix welcomed the passion Hermione would give her. Their tongues met and Hermione hoped that if Bellatrix could focus on her kiss, she would find it easier to blank the writhing dark mark from her mind.

Hermione rolled on top of her, pinning her dark witch to the bed and preventing her from touching her dark mark. She felt a hand on the back of her head, pushing her down and keeping her steadily lip-locked with Bellatrix.

Hermione was helping her cope. She was helping her get through this.

The young witch let a hand slide over Bellatrix's side, pausing at her breast before moving downward to rest on her thigh, bared through the slit of the evening gown the dark witch was wearing. Hermione know that her touch was nothing but inexperienced fumbling. But, she was eager to learn. And she doubted Bellatrix much cared for the quality of her touch, as long as it was there.

Bellatrix, poor Bellatrix's life had been a cavalcade of misery. Granted, a lot of that misery was of her own making, but Hermione genuinely hoped that Bellatrix would manage to claw herself out of the pit she had dug for herself. Hermione liked to think she was the one standing at the edge of said pit to throw down a rope to make Bellatrix' climb easier.

If the future version of her she'd met was any indication, she would get very far.

It might have lasted minutes. It might have lasted hours, but for as long as that damnable dark mark tried to worm its way into Bellatrix's mind, Hermione stood fast and stemmed the tide. She held on to Bellatrix and never let go.

Was this what love was? Was she in love? Wanting to do everything to keep someone safe? She'd never experienced something like this herself, but she knew she wanted more of it.

Finally. Finally that damn thing on her arm stopped whatever it was that it had been doing. By now, Bellatrix was panting from the mental strain, looking at her with tired eyes. She gave her the warmest of smiles, an expression which at first seemed so utterly alien on her face. Bellatrix reached out to lay a hand on her cheek before laying her head down and drifting into a dreamless sleep.

It was then that Hermione realized something profound: Bellatrix had been summoned by Voldemort, a man she had spent fourteen years at Azkaban for, served loyally for years, loved him even. And yet she had chosen to stay here with her over his summons.

Bellatrix loved her.

And she was probably just as confused about the whole thing as Hermione was.

Together, they lay on the bed, Hermione holding her and stroking her hair until she too fell into the blissful embrace of sleep.

* * *

Mood was generally high now that the Ministry had been liberated from Death Eater control. When walking through the halls of the Ministry, she'd seen many happy faces today. Happy faces of muggle-borns facing vicious show-trials, happy faces of Order members who were convinced that they had achieved the impossible.

For most people it was a sign of hope: Voldemort had seemingly defied death through his return and this victory at the Ministry was a major blow to his rule. It was clear and undeniable proof that the Dark Lord _could_ be defeated. For someone like Bellatrix, it meant something different altogether: she knew that this would be the start of his undoing. She knew that the end was near and that a long year of working from the shadows was finally coming to an end.

It was better to walk the halls wearing her mask, even though she was still in the open somewhat as it were. The mystique around her person was growing and if the rumor mill was to be believed, the stories told about her ranged from her being a veteran of the first war who was horribly scarred to being the Dark Lord's secret daughter. All laughable, of course, since in this case the truth really was more interesting than fiction.

The Death Eater defectors were being kept in an isolated part of the Ministry, at level 2 near the auror office. They weren't prisoners per say, but they weren't free to leave either. Right now, they'd condemned themselves to fight alongside the Order for if they didn't, the Dark Lord would be sure to exact revenge. She could tell that though they were committed, they were all terribly torn: Bellatrix understood as she had made that particular journey herself and she would love to tell them that things would get better as she knew they would. But it was for the best that Antonin would remain the only one of them who would know her true identity.

Still, the defectors had remained remarkably calm.

That is, until the Dark Lord started to recall his troops.

Bellatrix knew it had been coming and knew that her fellow ex-death eaters would have trouble dealing with the calling. It was a magically induced compulsion, a part of the dark magic which had been poured into the creation of the dark mark. It was normal for the dark mark to sting slightly when the dark lord would summon them, but the sheer matter of compulsion the dark lord had sent through their marks was something she had never felt before that very moment. All Death Eaters had all had the complete and utter overwhelming urge to return to the Dark Lord beyond any regard for logic or self-preservation.

She remembered just how much she had struggled with the compulsion at the time. The dark magic begged the bearer of the mark to do its bidding, using pain, lust, hate and a whole torrent of different emotions and compulsions to answer the call. If she hadn't had Hermione there to hold her tightly, she would have gone to him without a second thought.

Rowle, Rookwood, Benweth and Myranda had to be stunned. Lucius and Penelope had locked themselves in rooms because they were losing themselves to the calling.

Antonin was the only one who had been handling himself quite well, determined not to be defeated. Bellatrix approached the balcony on which his stood, adjacent to an office looking down upon the atrium. Bellatrix felt comfortable enough to take off her mask and talk to Antonin: talking to him had kept her relatively sane when they'd both been in Azkaban and it had helped keep her sane during the long and arduous healing process which was still to come for her younger self. Perhaps talking now would help him somewhat.

"Should you be taking off your mask?" said Antonin while he was leaning on the railing. "You risk exposure."

"Hm," shrugged Bellatrix. "From this far away, I'm not too worried. Besides, it talks easier without the mask."

"I suppose," laughed Antonin. It was a nervous laugh, without humor. Bellatrix could see the sweat on his brow: he was struggling. "So, Lucius is part of the resistance now. All of a sudden. Without warning. Your doing?"

"He _is_ my sister's husband," said Bellatrix. "Besides, if he were to be locked up, who would take care of his peacocks?"

"I just wish Lucius would stop preening," Antonin replied. "I'm perfectly fine with Lucius swooping and telling everyone that the defection and the plan to invade the Ministry was all his idea in the first place. But it's the preening I can't stand."

"He never does," chuckled Bellatrix before motioning to his forearm. "It stings, doesn't it?"

Antonin let out a heavy sigh. "Every instinct is screaming at me to go back. You don't feel it?"

Bellatrix said nothing. Instead she rolled up her sleeve and showed him a patch of pinkish mottled scar-tissue where her Dark Mark used to be. "When the Dark Lord died, the dark mark faded into a scar. Before traveling back in time, my wife studied the scar, but she wasn't convinced the lingering magic wouldn't reactivate the dark mark. I decided that I wasn't willing to take that risk, so I had the entire patch of skin removed to made sure. Dark magic isn't easily thwarted, though, as both of us well know, so the wound simply wouldn't heal. I had to suffer through the indignity of having a muggle doctor apply something called skin grafts and it hurt for weeks. Still, it did the trick."

After rolling up her sleeve, Antonin nodded briefly. "Hm, maybe I should do that too," he muttered. "I'm honestly surprised you... the younger you... didn't give in to this compulsion."

"My younger self has Hermione to keep her safe," said Bellatrix. "I don't think I could have coped without her."

Antonin chuckled. "I knew a time when you'd prefer to jump off a bridge before you'd get anywhere near a mudblood. We were both true believers once."

Bellatrix leaned on the railing next to him. "That's the curious thing... if belief is a mental state just like more primal ones like love or hate, but yet different because belief can be true or false. Love and hate can be warranted or unwarranted, sure, but when it comes down to it they aren't propositioned while belief is."

"Love and hate can feed belief," said Antonin. "Belief isn't fully voluntary because they formed through cognitive processes and fed by primal mental states. Noticed how when beliefs are held stronger, they ultimately make you seek out confirmation where you tend to embrace whatever supports that belief and reject whatever opposes it, even if evidence for it is overwhelming?"

Bellatrix laughed to herself. "Are we rationalizing our own stupidity?"

"Hah," replied Antonin. "I think we were too blind to see it. It's hard to see a cult for what it is when you're a part of it. That's not stupidity. That's human nature. To be so sure that you're on the right path and everyone around you feeding into that certainty... and then suddenly having the wool pulled from your eyes and seeing it for what it is. Beliefs can change, also not fully voluntary."

"Such as when the cult leader goes off his rocker?" Bellatrix asked.

"Or when the staunch pure-blood paragon falls in love with a mudblood?" Antonin returned.

"Touche," replied Bellatrix. "It lingers, though. When Hermione and I decided to have children all those all old beliefs came bubbling back to the surface. Put a bit of a strain on our relationship for a bit."

"But you still had them," Antonin replied. "And you bent the rules of time and space itself to make sure they happen."

"Because of Penelope of all people," Bellatrix chuckled. "Remember how she always used to talk about having children? She wanted nothing more. Then Azkaban happened. But it never killed her dream. Some five years from now, she will adopt three orphans. Muggle-borns, all of them. Had to fight the Ministry tooth and nail to get it done. And she loves the bones of them."

"She encouraged you to start a family?"

Bellatrix nodded and adopted a rather wistful look. "Have you ever noticed that kids are nature's lawyers? They will come up with the most convoluted arguments as to why they should stay up for another five minutes," chuckled Bellatrix. "It's simply amazing just watching them wriggle and squirm to come up with reasons why they are not actually responsible for what you've witnessed them do and know they are responsible for and are just determined to find a loophole in reality itself."

"Heh," Antonin snorted. "They sound like a handful."

The dark witch smiled warmly. "Our children inherited Hermione's wit and my tenacity. That's a very bad combination. And a tactic they most often use is just to repeat 'but mum, but mum, but mum, but mum' over and over again until they just overwhelm the parent. That works on Hermione, but not so much on me."

"So what does work on you?" Antonin asked.

"Clever misdirection," Bellatrix responded and changed her voice a little to sound like her young son. " _Mum, when you told me I was doing good and to keep it up, I wasn't actually cleaning my room, but watching my screen at the time, so you actually gave me permission to keep playing my game instead of cleaning my room_."

"That actually works on you?" Antonin asked.

"To a point," said Bellatrix. "That point is usually reached when I get angry enough to apparate my son's computer away to another room. He's a little Slytherin in the making, that lad."

"You miss them."

"I do. Terribly."

Any further discussion was cut shot when Alastor Moody barged into the office and limped his way to balcony. Apparently the healers had told him to keep weight off his leg, considering how much he was leaning on his crutch. Still, Moody was decidedly, well, Moody. A grim look on his face belied the many smiles of his subordinates.

"I need to speak with you, Black," barked Moody. "In private."

Bellatrix fished her golden pocket watch from her coat and checked the time. "Hm, I do need to visit two people in a bit, but I still have some time."

"Do it later!" Moody demanded. "Fetch your mask."

"Go," said Antonin. "I'll be already."

Bellatrix gave him a brief nod and, after fetching her mask and putting it on, followed Moody into the corridor. She couldn't help but notice that Moody locked the door behind him, keeping Antonin confined for now. The old man's paranoia was obviously getting the better of him. She walked beside them as they made their way through the corridors to his own private space at the auror office. Along the way there, she was greeted and cheered on by many different aurors and Ministry workers, but Moody remained grim as ever.

Moody had taken back his old office and apparently was busy restoring to its former messy glory. The previous occupant's things had been roughly thrown in the corner to be whisked away soon, while he was busy unpacking a few boxes containing files, some personal effects and pictures of aurors killed in the line of duty to be hung back on the wall. He grunted when he took a seat and leaned his crutch against his oaken desk. "Black, perhaps you can clarify something for me with your future foreknowledge and all that," he muttered. "I realize that is dangerous, but not more dangerous than a cornered Dark Lord, I'd wager."

"What have you heard?" Bellatrix asked cautiously.

"Reports are coming in that known Death Eater strongholds are being abandoned en masse," replied Moody. "The Isle of Man, the Orford Ness Pagodas, Roche Rock, Azkaban. Cities under their control are being abandoned: Leicester, Birmingham, Edinburgh, Liverpool... all of them prime tactical strongholds. Wizards and witches there are dancing in the streets. What's happening, Black? Is it as bad as I fear?"

Bellatrix nodded. "The Dark Lord is recalling his troops, as you can tell what's happening to the ex-Death Eaters among them. But it's not the Death Eaters alone. It's all snatchers, all dementors, even those magical creatures he has managed to ensnare. Giants, trolls..."

Moody grunted. "He's turtling up then," he bent forward. "And _you_ know where he is."

She had to be careful now. The last thing she wanted to was for Moody to make a premature move. "I do," said Bellatrix. "Ogof Ftynnon Ddu."

"The caves in Wales?" Moody blanched. "All his troops? All of them?"

"All of them," replied Bellatrix.

Moody sighed, sinking back in his chair. "Not as bad as I feared, but somehow even worse. You-know-who and all his troops are hiding in a cave system, some 50 miles long, 900 foot deep and with endless places to hide and attack from. I shudder to think how many good men and women we're going to lose in that place."

"There's not where the final battle in this war will take place," said Bellatrix. "Moody, I need to tell you this. Yaxley didn't escape. I let him go."

Moody's expression darkened considerably upon hearing this news, his good eye widening while his magical eye shot forward in its socket. He bent forward, hands grabbing the wood of his desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. "You... let... him... GO?!" he roared. "You better have a damn good explanation, Black! GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON! ONE REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T HAVE YOU CLAPPED IN IRONS AND TOSSED DOWN INTO THE DEEPEST, DARKEST HOLE WE CAN FIND!"

She'd been expecting this reaction and slowly removed her mask, making sure that he would be able to see her expression and, hopefully, be convinced of her sincerity. "Yaxley's already dead by now as I knew would happen," said Bellatrix. "I needed someone from the Dark Lord's inner circle to deliver a message. The Dark Lord is so far gone at this point that he quite literally kills messengers bearing bad news like a Roman emperor of old. And I've had Yaxley deliver the worst of news without really knowing that it was."

Moody seemed to calm himself somewhat, but still not enough to stop grasping at the desk. "Duplicitous as ever, Black. You remain true to your dark nature. You are dangerous beyond measure," he said, leaning forward again. "I don't doubt your sincerity. You are doing this for people you love... but how many of _our_ lives are you willing to throw away to achieve your goals, hm? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? More? How many, hm?! HOW MANY?!"

Bellatrix pursed her lips, glaring at the old man in front of her. She placed slowly before she snapped her head, narrowing her eyes. " _All_ of them," she hissed.

Moody snorted and, oddly enough, seemed to relax. "An honest answer, at least," he snorted. "Now. Explain yourself! Why the duplicity?"

"People can be duplicitous for the best of reasons, Moody," she smirked. "Tell me. Do you know what a horcrux is?"


	18. Self-interest

Hermione stretched while groggily waking up. She had no idea what time it was and at the moment simply didn't care. What she did care about however, was the sleeping person pressing her warmth against her.

Bellatrix looked so innocent while she slept and they had fallen asleep in their clothes. To Hermione's embarrassment, her arm was folded in in a way that her hand was resting on Bellatrix's breast, her palm pressing against it through the fabric of the evening gown. Hermione smiled for a moment, thinking that there was nothing which felt quite as soft and inviting as a woman's breast. Odd thing, really, up to about ten days ago, she'd been so certain she liked boys and was in love with Ron... but she had eased into being a lesbian quite quickly and effectively.

She saw absolutely no reason to remove her hand from Bellatrix's lovely breast.

No, not at all.

What to do next? Getting out of the country, though it still felt wrong to flee, would be their best bet. So would it be Inverness airport of the ferry at Newcastle? Inverness was closer and planes were faster, but still... they had no passports, tickets were expensive and Hermione had a fairly good idea that Bellatrix wouldn't like being on a muggle aircraft and would undoubtedly make a scene. Newcastle, on the other hand, was much further away and boats were slow. Still, it would be easier to sneak on board using magic and keep hidden on the boat until it reached the other side of the channel.

Hermione closed her eyes and decided that, for the moment, she would be content to simply lie there on bed and live in the moment a bit longer. No thoughts about fleeing or running or being in danger, but to simply enjoy the moment. Just her and Bellatrix.

The woman she now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was in love with.

Still, something was off. Perhaps it was just her state of being completely sleep-drunk, but she had completely failed to notice that there was something in the room with her. Much earlier in her life, she had suffered from sleep paralysis and had a few visits from the night hag. In her mind, she knew nothing about sleep paralysis was in any way supernatural, but when she noticed a shadowy figure from the corner of her eyes, old fears came bubbling to the surface.

But... she could move.

So it couldn't be the night hag then.

A much deeper fear crept over her. Had the Death Eaters found her?

"Don't be frightened," sounded the whispered voice of... Bellatrix?

The shadowy figure came into view, revealing herself to be the older Bellatrix wearing her usual black robe and a warm smile. Oddly enough, the was a car door leaning against the wall. "I'm afraid I arrived a little too early. Not my usual style, mind you. It's so good to see you again, Hermione."

Hermione grumbled a little while turning to her side to face her. And only then realized she was in full view of a third person while having her hand parked on a sleeping Bellatrix's breast. Instantly, all blood rushed to her cheeks and she withdrew her hand so fast she almost gave her wrist a severe case of whiplash. "I... I wasn't touching her," Hermione gulped quickly.

Next to her, the younger Bellatrix stirred. "Hey," sounded a groggy Bellatrix. "Put that back..."

"She stirs," spoke the older Bellatrix, a smirk on her features. The older Bellatrix stepped towards the little hotel desk opposite to the bed and put down two wands: one was Bellatrix's curved dueling wand and the other one was Hermione's. "Your wands," said the older Bellatrix. "Cissy was kind enough to keep yours safe for you, just like I asked her to."

"Nar... Narcissa Malfoy?"

"You'll find that a lot of things have happened while you and my younger self had your little adventure," the older Bellatrix chuckled. "Hogwarts is free. And so is the Ministry. Your friends are waiting for you there."

Hermione blinked and sat up. "Free?" she found herself smiling warmly. It had hurt her heart to know that the school she had come to love had fallen under an oppressive yoke, but now it was free. "Harry. Ron. Are they alright? My friends."

The younger Bellatrix stretched next to her. "Whass goin' on?" she muttered, half-asleep with her face smushed into the pillow. "Hermione?"

"Hermione, you and Bellatrix have to go there," said the older Bellatrix. "You both have roles to play in the coming battle. The Dark Lord is coming for the both of you. And others. If you flee now, you will never be safe."

"Will it ever be over?" Hermione asked. "He's already come back once. Even with him gone, will the Wizarding World really change?"

The older Bellatrix smiled to herself. "Hermione," Bellatrix started, pointing at her younger self. "Give or take five years from now you will ask her to marry you. It flaunted all wizarding traditions: the strongest, richest and most prestigious family is supposed to propose to a wizard or witch of the lesser house. But she didn't care and she accepted your proposal with tears in her eyes. So yes. Things will change. Old traditions will become new ones. I won't lie, though. You have hard times ahead, in more ways than one. Just keep your eye on the end result."

Next to her, she felt a stark shift of weight in the bed. Bellatrix had now surely and certainly woken up.

"YOU?!" sounded a shriek so ear-piercing that it made Hermione cringe. With the speed of a lightning strike, Bellatrix jumped from the bed and grabbed the wand taken from the snatcher from the nightstand. A warrior true and true, her first spell was flying over Hermione's head to only being barely blocked in time by the older Bellatrix.

"STOP!" Hermione yelled, but Bellatrix was beyond listening. Spell after spell flew towards the older Bellatrix, who blocked them all with a snarl on her face.

"YOU! YOU KIDNAPPED ME! YOU HUMILIATED ME! YOU DROPPED ME IN THAT GODFORSAKEN WILDERNESS! YOU STRANDED ME IN THE MUGGLE WORLD! YOU HAD ME DECLARED A TRAITOR!" Bellatrix shrieked as she and the older Bellatrix were now dueling in a very tiny hotel room with Hermione caught in the middle.

"BELLA!" Hermione yelled, but her dark lover was beyond hearing her.

The older Bellatrix simply rolled her eyes as she focused on blocking every incoming spell, meanwhile looking for an opening to knock her back. So far, the older Bellatrix wasn't having much luck.

"SUFFER! SUFFER!" Bellatrix shouted. "LIAR! TRAITOR!"

"I've done both plenty of times the past year," the older Bellatrix shrugged.

"MUGGLE-LOVER!"

"Oh come on, that's just rude!" the older Bellatrix bristled. "I have some standards at least."

Upon hearing that, Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the older Bellatrix. "Most muggles are fine," she said while dodging a spell. "I like your family for the most part, but I still don't want to hang out with random muggles if I can help it."

That was fair enough, Hermione supposed. Bellatrix, however, was still enraged but for an entirely different reason. "YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME TO RUIN! YOU..."

"... freed you from the Dark Lord's influence? Released you from our loveless marriage? Set in motion the events through which you fell in love with our future wife?" Bellatrix spoke softly, an ever widening smirk on her face. "Rodolphus transformed himself into a kebab quite effectively ."

Well. That quite effectively shut Bellatrix up. And ended the duel in one foul stroke. It seemed that Bellatrix was needing a bit of time to process the things she had just heard. Her lips moved producing no words, her eyes were spread open wide as she slowly lowered her wand. She turned her head to Hermione, unsure of what to do or what to say. Until she muttered a single word. "Dead?" she whispered.

"Congratulations," the older Bellatrix nodded. "You're a very rich widow. And you can take back our family name now... to give it to Hermione."

"Bellatrix... Black," Bellatrix whispered to herself, letting it roll over her tongue. "Bellatrix Black."

There was a change in Bellatrix, as if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Hermione smiled at her. A warm smile Bellatrix returned. The young witch was genuinely happy for her.

"Bella," Hermione spoke softly. "We're going to Hogwarts."

Bellatrix blinked. "What?! Not a chance, my little mudpet!"

"The Death Eaters have abandoned it. It's safe for us again!"

"For _you_ perhaps!" Bellatrix pressed. "I might as well grab the nearest broom and fly off to Azkaban myself!"

The older Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh. "If you go to Hogwarts, the last place you'll end up is Azkaban. Take a chance for once in your life and try to find some measure of redemption."

"Redemption?" Bellatrix hissed. "I spit on your redemption! I have done nothing wrong. I..."

"OH, SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH, YOU PATHETIC WRETCH!" shouted the older Bellatrix in a move which startled Hermione. The older Bellatrix she had know had been a kind and reasonable woman up to this point, but this reminded her that the older witch was unmistakably Bellatrix. "OH, YOU LOOK AT EVERYONE ELSE TO FIND BLAME FOR ALL YOUR AILS EXCEPT WHERE YOU ACTUALLY _SHOULD_ LOOK! You blame Ted Tonks for turning Andie against you. You blame muggle-borns for a world you feel no longer is yours. You blame Rodolphus for your lack of a love-life. You blame Sirius for killing your child while never considering who put him in danger in the first place! You even blamed Kezia for leaving you behind all alone, while never considering who it was who pushed her to take more difficult assignments in the first place!"

The tone of voice the older Bellatrix had taken was somewhat startling Hermione. It was dripping with anger, with malice and contempt. It was beyond obvious that the older Bellatrix didn't hold her younger self in high regard. Bellatrix herself was equally seething.

"You dare?" Bellatrix whispered, trembling with rage. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?! WHAT HAVE YOU LOST?!"

"I _AM_ YOU, IDIOT!" the older Bellatrix shot back. "Don't you understand? I lost my child too! I loved Kezia too! I went through the same pain you have gone through and will go through!"

"Please, both of you, just stop!" Hermione said, jumping in between them. "Bellatrix, it's okay. We will go to Hogwarts and I'll make sure nobody gets any ideas in their head about imprisoning you. And you," she turned to the older Bellatrix. "I realize what you're trying to do, but right now it's not helping. We need to be able to trust each other now more than ever."

The older Bellatrix's expression softened. "You're right again, Hermione," said the older Bellatrix. "Things will be coming to a head soon and we'll all need to have our wits about us. I will be at Hogwarts as well, along with the Order. We're in for the fight of our lives, make no mistake about it."

"Wait!" Hermione said as the dark witch was about to turn away. She knew she shouldn't ask about the future or risk changing it, but there was one thing which worried her greatly. "If you know the future. What happens between me and Harry and Ron if... when I tell her... about Bella and me?"

She honestly couldn't bear the thought of losing their friendship. She only hoped they would understand on some level.

The older Bellatrix seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Just tell them the truth. If you need me to reveal myself, I will, though in private. It might make things easier."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

The older Bellatrix raised her wand, causing her younger self to tense up. "Accio time-circuit," she spoke out and the rucksack started to shake about until the top opened. Out came the heavily modified time-turner, flying right into her hand. "I'll need this."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I hope you realize this isn't over," said Bellatrix. "There will be a reckoning for all of this. And it will be deadly."

"Right," the older Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Spare me your bollocks and simply travel to Hogwarts before I'll drag you there kicking and screaming."

"HOW DARE..."

"Oh, stop your posturing," the older Bellatrix chuckled. "You're not impressing anyone. Least of all me."

Before a second duel could break out, the door to the room opened and Duncan rushed in wand in hand. "Hermione?" the old Scot yelled out. "Bella? Are you alright? I heard a commotion and... wait... there's two of you?"

"Hello Duncan," older Bellatrix greeted and shifted the car door towards him. "I took the liberty of finding your mini's door by the side of the road out of Banchory so Hermione doesn't have to sit in the cold during the drive to Hogwarts."

Bellatrix let out a pig-like snort. "Sycophant," she muttered.

"Ah..." he turned to Hermione. "We're going to Hogwarts?"

"If you're willing to drive us," Hermione asked with a smile.

"Of course," Duncan replied and Hermione was thankful that Duncan was part of her life: the old man really had gone above and beyond for someone who wasn't even family. She would have to thank him later... perhaps making sure his mini was fixed proper.

"Good," said the older Bellatrix. "I'll meet you there."

A wand. A whispered spell. A crackle of magic and she was gone.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Duncan muttered. "That was the future you?"

"Unfortunately," Bellatrix muttered, to which Hermione gently rubbed her arm. Something which made Bellatrix smile again.

"Bellatrix Black," Bellatrix replied. "Hermione Black. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Hermione decided that, yes, that indeed had a nice ring to it. Especially since hearing it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

* * *

When Bellatrix apparated just on the edge of Hogwarts ground, she found that the Order's main force had already arrived, consisting mostly of Order members, aurors and staunch volunteers. Clad in her robe and mask, she entered the courtyard and was swiftly met by Lupin. All around them, younger students were mulling about carrying trunks and their familiars. From the look of things, they would soon be led towards the train station in small groups.

Some of the students were quick to point her out, as did some of the staff. It appeared her legend was growing. Bellatrix wasn't sure what to think about that.

Alastor Moody came out of the front entrance, flanked by both Kingsley Shacklebolt and... Harry Potter of all people. It looked like Hermione's friends had made it to the party just in time.

"Ah, there you are," greeted Alastor.

"It's you!" the Potter boy stepped forward, fire in his eyes and quick to accuse. "Where's Hermione? Where did you take her? I want to see Hermione!"

"She's on her way," Bellatrix replied from behind the mask. "She should arrive at Hogwarts in a few hours."

Apparently the Potter boy had all manner of threatening speeches planned out in his mind and a reaction to hearing his friend was coming to Hogwarts soon was not one of the planned options. His brain short-circuited for a moment and he stood there for a moment, wondering what to say. "I... I see," he replied. "Is she alright?"

"I told you, boy," Alastor Moody gruffed. "Now go help Lupin get the young ones ready. Need I remind you we're on the clock?"

"Yes, sir," the spectacled boy nodded and flashed Bellatrix a brief smile before heading to his task. Bellatrix turned to Moody and he motioned for her to follow him inside. Bellatrix did so, and together they walked through the halls of Hogwarts. It was here where the final battle would take place. It was here where Voldemort would fall. "Thanks to your warning we're able to evacuate the younger students and most of Hogsmeade. The Hogwarts express will arrive soon and ferry them off to London. Most of the seventh years and some of the sixths have volunteered to join the fight and though I loathe to throw children into battle, I fear we're going to need every wand in this fight we can get."

"You will," Bellatrix replied grimly. "Hermione Granger will arrive soon, along with my younger self."

"Aye," said Moody as they walked. "That's going to create quite a stir, I can tell you."

"Don't go easy on her," said Bellatrix. "Her loyalties will be tested to a fair degree and conditioning is hard to break."

"I suppose you would know a thing or two about that," Moody chuckled. "I'm still taking a chance with you."

"You still don't trust me?" Bellatrix asked.

"Don't take it personally," replied Moody, the sound of his staff harshly ticking on the stones of the corridor as he walked. "I don't trust anyone. In any case, the Head Master has asked to meet with you."

"I was expecting that," replied Bellatrix as they turned the corner and headed to the Head Master's office. A winding staircase later, on which Bellatrix fared quite a lot better than Moody did, they found themselves standing inside formerly Dumbledore, formerly Snape's office. There, sitting behind the desk was Minerva McGonagall, looking as stern as ever. Apparently Snape had removed some of the more colorful elements and collections of Dumbledore and McGonagall had lacked the time to restore the office to former glory.

"Ah, you are the Head Master?" Bellatrix asked, already knowing the answer.

"Acting Head Master," replied McGonagall. "I have not been officially appointed, after all."

Humble as ever.

"Well," said Moody. "For now we shall overlook that little formality. "This is the one you requested to speak with. The woman who is currently known to the Order as 'Batman'."

McGonagall frowned. "Batman?" she asked. "But this is obviously a woman."

Bellatrix shrugged. "I have no idea why I'm called that, but you may blame Tonks for that particular nickname. For now, it'll suffice."

"I understand there are rumors that you have waged a one-person war on the Death Eaters for an entire year and played an instrumental role in the liberation of the Ministry?" asked McGonagall.

Bellatrix nodded in response. "All true."

Moody scraped his throat. "If you're excuse me, I still have defense plans to go over with the Hogwarts staff."

McGonagall gave her a nod. A few moments later, she and Bellatrix were the only ones remaining in the office. "Won't you sit down?" she asked and Bellatrix did so. "We also have you to thank for the liberation of Hogwarts. When You-Know-Who recalled all his servants, Hogwarts was abandoned."

"A tactical error on his part," replied Bellatrix. "You'll learn why soon."

"Let me be frank. I don't like secrets, 'Batman'," said McGonagall. "And even though you have done wonderful things, I find it hard to trust someone who hides her face behind a mask. Whatever the reason."

Bellatrix made no move to remove her mask and merely started at McGonagall from behind pitch-black magical glass of the eyes in her beak-shaped mask. "Why did you want to speak with me?" she asked.

"One of my students, Hermione Granger, is still missing," said McGonagall. "Potential lies in the paper notwithstanding, I would know where she is and if she is safe."

"She is," replied Bellatrix and fished a golden pocketwatch from her robe. "She is well underway and should arrive in an hour or two."

McGonagall almost smiled. Almost. "That is gratifying to hear," she replied. "But I would also know why you took her in the first place. According to, now confirmed, rumors you were at Malfoy Manor, the very heart of Death Eater holdings. Why take such a tremendous risk? Was it merely to strike at Bellatrix Lestrange? Or something else?"

"I had to," replied Bellatrix. She fished the burned-out time-turner from her robe and tossed it at McGonagall to catch. The older witch held it out in front of her from the chain, looking absolutely fascinated.

"This is," McGonagall muttered to herself. "Not a time-turner. A time- _circuit_. The actuator is enlarged, which would alter the way it interacts with the flux loop. There's no hour reversal charm as far as I can sense and the hour-glass in the middle is dangerously modified... very illegally so, I must say. Judging from the damage, it's been used to its full effect... Good lord, this time-circuit could send someone a decade in time in either direction!"

"Two decades," Bellatrix replied.

"A time traveler then?" asked McGonagall. "Past or future?"

"Future."

"That explains the mask," said McGonagall. "This time-circuit was meant to be a one-way trip, wasn't it?"

"Not exactly, but one has to play with the hand one is dealt. Recognize your own work?" Bellatrix challenged.

McGonagall's eyes grew wide. "Are you suggesting..."

"You built it. Together with my wife," said Bellatrix.

"Your... wife?" McGonagall. "Miss Granger? Is that you under that mask?"

"Wrong wife," chuckled Bellatrix. "She wanted to come with me. Didn't want me to face this burden on my own. But history tells of only _one_ vigilante. Only _one_ 'Batman'. It pained her to see me go at this alone, but I had to."

"Causality is a harsh mistress," said McGonagall. "This time-circuit cannot be repaired."

"Hermione had a contingency plan," said Bellatrix. "As for my identity."

Bellatrix pulled off her mask and removed her hood, revealing her face and her dark curls to a shocked McGonagall. The dark witch gave her a smirk which quickly softened into a smile. "We are actually rather good friends twenty years from now," said Bellatrix.

"Miss... Miss Black?!" McGonagall spoke with widened eyes. "So... what was written in the papers? Is that the truth?"

"Exaggerated," said Bellatrix. "But somewhat true. My younger self and Hermione have fallen for each other at this point. They will both be arriving at Hogwarts. Small warning, though. My younger self is still rather unstable and still has her anger-management issues. We'll want to be careful about my younger self's arrival. It'll be explosive and it's going to have to happen under controlled circumstances. Don't give her an inch or she'll eat you alive."

"It was you?" said McGonagall. "You were the one who traveled back in time to wage war against the Dark Lord and actively disrupted his plans?"

"And caused key Death Eaters to defect. Caused myself to fall in love with Hermione. Saved Ted Tonks, Alastor Moody and generally made the Order stronger and the Death Eaters weaker," said Bellatrix.

"Well," McGonagall replied softly. "I'm rather gratified that you've finally come to your senses."

"Only took me about twenty years," laughed Bellatrix in spite of herself.

"Something else is quite gratifying, miss Black."

"What is."

"Seeing you smile again."

Bellatrix honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

"I once called you the Brightest Witch of her your age, miss Black," McGonagall replied softly.

"Not so bright after all, was I?" Bellatrix snorted.

"And the biggest troublemaker of her age," McGonagall added. "A very bad combination. But I stand by my praise, miss Black. You are simply... a late bloomer. Not many people would risk traveling twenty years into the past to right her past wrongs. Tell me, are you and miss Granger happy?"

Bellatrix turned her head to look outside. The sun was out and bright, but would soon set. She felt her eyes go a bit watery. "I've been on my own for a year now, working and living in the shadows," said Bellatrix. "I ache for her. And our children."

"I don't envy you," said McGonagall, sympathy on her voice.

"Our children have inherited Hermione's smarts and my tenacity," Bellatrix smirked. "My son will start at Hogwarts next year. That would be, uhm, autumn 2020."

"I do hope that by that time I will have long retired to the countryside, miss Black," she replied with humor on her voice.

"There's also this," said Bellatrix, removing the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff from her satchel and plopping it down on the desk.

"That is rather beautiful, miss Black, but why is it here?" asked McGonagall.

"That," Bellatrix chuckled. "Is a horcrux."

"Good lord."

"Indeed," said Bellatrix. "One of seven. Three have been destroyed. The cup is now here. There's another one hidden in Hogwarts and I know where. There's two more but those will require more explanation when the time is right. What you must know is that the Dark Lord and all his forces will descend upon Hogwarts on the 2nd of May for a final, desperate assault to save these two horcruxes from destruction. But all of them will be right here in that moment. For now, keep the cup safe. If it and the Ravenclaw Diadem are destroyed prematurely, the Dark Lord will have no reason to assault Hogwarts and withdraw into his Welsh cave. If that happens, the war will likely drag on for decades with an uncertain outcome."

"Though I am glad to see you smile," McGonagall sat back in her chair and let out a sigh. "You are still a troublemaker. Even for the best of reasons."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Bellatrix after replacing her mask. There was work to be done.


	19. Self-delusion

The trip to Hogwarts in the now-haggard mini cooper was thankfully uneventful and, honestly, quite enjoyable. Duncan has spent a lot of time chatting about the Scottish countryside and events past, some he had personal involvement in. One tale about a particularly nasty Baobhan Sith, a type of Scottish female vampire-fairy preying on travellers he and his brother had manage to drive from their home town during their younger days had been particularly exciting. Bellatrix even got involved in the conversation rather than just sitting in the backseat petting Ainsley all the way. If Bellatrix was to be believed, pure-bloods tasted more 'rich in magic' and thus more delicious to a Boabhan Sith: when she'd been younger, she'd actually been warned by her parents not to go out at night in the Scottish highlands when at Hogwarts or risk being drained of her life-blood.

Which, of course, she did anyway.

More tales were swapped until finally the road ran out and they had to park the mini to continue further on foot. They followed the rail-road tracks and found the Hogwarts express at the Hogsmeade railway station. The station was in a bustle with young students being hurried into the train. Apparently, Hogwarts was being evacuated. The three of them avoided the busy station and took a quiet route to the castle, where they finally entered the courtyard.

More students, mostly third and fourth years, were now at the ready with their trunks to be moved to the train station as well, along as quite a lot of Order members and aurors, about fifty of them, setting up defensive positions. A quiet hush went through the gathered crowd the moment the trio stepped further into the courtyard. Wary and angry stares followed, along with the occasional vulgar swear and rude gestures.

"Hmpf," Bellatrix snorted, glaring back. "I don't think they like me very much."

"Trust me," said Hermione, a bit more cowed. "They don't seem to be liking me much more either."

"They just haven't gotten to know you," Duncan shrugged.

As they were about to enter the castle, three aurors came stepping towards them with wands in hand. Two men and a woman which Hermione didn't recognize, but they seemed rather young. Next to her, Bellatrix glowered and twitched slightly, her hand hovering near her wand. Hermione held her breath: the courtyard was a powder-keg waiting to explore... and if this came to a fight, she'd be caught right in the middle.

Fortunately, she wouldn't have to think about that for long. A sharp tap of wood on stone sounded as Alastor Moody emerged from the castle, with the older Bellatrix clad in mask and robe in tow. "Alright, stand down, you lot," said Alastor Moody. "They are expected."

The three aurors looked rather reluctant, but did as they were told. Bellatrix shot them a foul look as she passed them. "That's right," she cackled. "Respect your betters!"

One auror, the woman, raised her wand again, only to be admonished by Moody.

Bellatrix cocked her head sideways. "Auror Conebush, isn't it? I remember your brother," she cackled briefly. "Bet that was a closed-casket funeral, wasn't it?"

"Bella!" a startled Hermione hissed. Auror Conebush, a red-haired woman in her thirties, was about to rush forward with her wand drawn when the older Bellatrix lay a gloved hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Don't let her bait you!" spoke the older Bellatrix with a muffled voice. "Focus on the real enemy."

The woman, though relaxed, still continued to glare daggers at her. "I hope I'll run into you when you're all alone in a corridor somewhere. Away from prying eyes," Auror Conebush grit her teeth.

Bellatrix pulled a pouty look with said eyes. "Aww, so sowwy. You aren't my type."

It took a lot more effort from the older Bellatrix to restrain auror Conebush and finally decided to drag the struggling auror away from them into the courtyard.

"Well, now that that unpleasantness is over with," said Moody, gruff as ever. "You two are expected. Please follow me."

Duncan crossed his arms, giving a glance over courtyard. "Well, I suppose that ends my part in this adventure," said the old Scot. "I'll see if I can make myself useful here. Looks like this lot can use all the help they can get."

"Duncan," said Hermione after she turned and flowed into his arms. "Thank you for helping."

"Of course, my dear bairn," replied the old Scot. "Just be safe. And you, you daft English cunt! Take good care of her, hm?"

Bellatrix nodded briefly after handing over Ainsley when Duncan released Hermione. Immediately, he turned towards a cart when a staff member was struggling to tie down far more trunks than the cart should be able to carry. "Oi, twat!" he shouted while hurrying towards the cart. "That's not how you tie a knot! Are you _trying_ to get some of these kids crushed by falling luggage? Here, let me..."

Hermione smiled a little while she followed Bellatrix and Moody into the castle. They were both quickly deposited into a small conference room which Hermione recognized as the room frequently used for career counselling. Less encouraging was the sound of the door locking behind them.

"So much for not locking me up, hm?" sounded Bellatrix, though there was amusement on her voice.

Hermione let out a sigh. She just hoped coming here wasn't a mistake.

"You didn't exactly help your own case," Hermione sighed. "Did you _really_ have to try to pick a fight with three aurors? We were already on shaky ground enough as it is, Bella!"

"I could have taken all three of them," Bellatrix raised her chin imperiously. "Easily."

"Bella," Hermione started.

"Oh, pish-posh..."

A few moments later, the door unlocked again. To reveal... Her friends. She wasn't given much time to think about it before the two boys rushed forward and took her into a massive hug. "Ron! Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's so good to see you again! What have you been up to?"

"Wandering aimlessly," snorted Ron. "Without you, the horcrux hunt didn't really get further traction."

"Ron has the right of it," said Harry. "After you were taken, we feared the worst. We kept being on the run until news of the Ministry being liberated reached us and then Voldemort recalling his lackeys. Some of Moody's troops found us."

For the first time, however, the boys noticed that there was someone else in the room with them. "BLIMEY!" Ron shouted, drawing his wand. "What's _she_ doing here?!"

"Currently?" Bellatrix yawned, studying her nails for a bit. "Watching two randy teenagers pawing at my mudblood."

"Bella!" Hermione hissed angrily. "Seriously, do you have to do this right now?"

"I have to defend my claim," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I'm trying my best not to get upset about it. They can't compare to me either way."

Harry drew his wand now too. "It's over, Lestrange! It's back to Azkaban for you! And this time, you'll rot there!"

Again, Bellatrix let out a rather exaggerated yawn, enraging Harry even further. The two boys were about to pounce on Bellatrix... and would no doubt be shown every corner of the room if it came to a fight. Hermione quickly stepped between them. "Enough!" she yelled. "Bella, wait for me outside, please. I need a moment alone with them."

Bellatrix glowered. "Fine," she said, rather girlishly sticking out her tongue at the boys... right before playfully and seductively flicking her tongue at Hermione. God, she could be so childish at times. When finally left alone, she sat down at the table, feeling two sets of accusing stares boring into her.

"At least we don't always have to believe what we read in the papers, right?" Ron chuckled. "Secret lovers indeed. What a bunch of rot."

Hermione bit her lip. "Uhm," she stammered.

"Hermione?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"She's no longer with Voldemort, just like the Death Eaters who helped take back the Ministry," Hermione started.

"Wait, stop, wait!" Ron balled his fists. "Are you saying it's true? That you're romantically involved with... that ugly old harpy?!"

"She's _not_ ugly!" Hermione spat back with a ferocity that surprised even herself.

"How long has this been going on?!" yelled Harry.

"Only for a week."

"The paper said..."

"So you believe that rag of a newspaper over me?!" Hermione spat back. "After all we've been through together?!"

Harry grit his teeth. "You say she's no longer with Voldemort! Fine! But she's still evil! She still murdered Sirius! Sirius was the only family I had left! She tortured the Longbottoms into insanity! What is Neville going to say? You know who she is! You know what she's done!"

Hermione adopted a grim look. "Harry," she spoke softly. "Sirius murdered Bellatrix's unborn child in the womb. Purposefully."

Well, that shut Harry up. Her friend pursed his lips, his anger flowing away. Hermione could see that Harry was struggling with that information. "Maybe... he didn't know?"

"He purposefully targeted her belly," said Hermione. "The Longbottoms killed her beloved during a mission. I'm not excusing the inexcusable, Harry, but I'm letting you know things aren't as black and white as they're sometimes presented. Both sides have done terrible things in these wars. Both sides have lost loved ones. It needs to end. I liked Sirius too, Harry, but you know as well as I that he wasn't a saint."

Harry nodded briefly, seemingly in deep contemplation. Ron, meanwhile, had gotten quiet and broody. That was to be expected.

"Harry, Ron," said Hermione, pleading with them. "Just let me start by telling you what happened from the beginning. You owe me that much."

Ron said nothing, but Harry reached out and briefly squeezed her hand. Hermione smiled: it gave her hope that she hadn't lost their friendship. And so she started her tale... a tale of a time-travelling witch, a kidnapping and unexpectedly falling in love.

* * *

Bellatrix, along with McGonagall, walked through the corridors of Hogwarts when word reached them that her younger self, along with Hermione and Duncan, had arrived. By now, Duncan had joined the volunteers helping to evacuate Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and would join the battle on the walls when Voldemort would strike in less than two days now.

When they arrived on ground floor, they found her younger self already having a rather animated discussion with Alastor Moody. She turned to Minerva, excused herself and hung back. There were some things she would have to do first.

Bellatrix knocked on the door to the conference room and quickly opened it, slipping inside. Hermione was there, as were too rather flabbergasted boys. In one swift motion, she pulled off her mask and her hood, revealing herself as being the older Bellatrix. Both boys' jaws hit the floor and she accepted Hermione's grateful smile. "You see?" she spoke calmly. "It's all true."

"This is getting out of hand," she heard Ronald Weasley exclaim while she replaced the mask and hood. "Now there's _two_ of them!"

That would be enough for the boys and Hermione would have a bit of an easier time explaining things to them. Harry and Ron would remain Hermione's friends, which Bellatrix of course already knew. She swiftly closed the door and moved to the side of the corridor, sticking to the shadows. From her vantage point, she regarded her younger self as she argued with McGonagall and Moody.

"Never question my loyalty, Moody," her younger self hissed. "EVER!"

"I do question it!" Moody snarled in response. "You once claimed absolute loyalty to You-Know-Who and yet you switched this so-called loyalty surprisingly fast. If you do it once, who's to say you won't do it again? Perhaps in the beat of battle, stabbing some of our lot right in the back?!"

Oh, her younger self didn't like this implication. Not one bit. She chuckled quietly when she watched her younger self flare her nose and seethe in barely contained anger. It was something she quite understood: to this day, loyalty was her strongest virtue. She wouldn't have been here at all without that strong belief in loyalty. Moody didn't understand. Moody never realized that Bellatrix would never switch allegiances unless betrayed first. But he was about to learn.

"The Dark Lord betrayed me first!" her younger self spat back. "I gave him my absolute loyalty, waited for him for years. Yet he tortured me without a second thought. He chose to believe lackeys and hack journalists over me. He put a price on my head without even hearing me. He… betrayed… _me_!"

Bellatrix nodded in approval: her younger self was learning. She had taken the first step.

Moody still seemed unconvinced. "So who do you claim loyalty to now, hm?"

"Hermione," her younger self challenged him, raising her chin imperiously. "She stands with you. So _I_ stand with you. And unless you will stab me or Hermione in the back first, you have nothing to fear from me. Point me to the enemy and I will fight for you. But the moment you betray me, all bets are off!"

McGonagall choose this time to intervene. "Enough!" she broke in with that stern yet powerful voice of hers. "Stop this senseless wand-measuring contest and focus on the tasks at hand. Moody, you yourself said that we need all the wands we can get. Well, here she is. You should allow the other ex-Death Eaters to join as well."

"If You-Know-Who decides to corrupt them again through their dark marks, we might be looking at betrayal from within the ranks," said Moody. "There's nothing more dangerous than a traitor. For if they betray one master, they will betray another!"

"Let them join," said McGonagall. "Let them fight."

Moody grumbled. "You do not know the risk you are taking," he muttered. "Fine! On your head it be! And you, Black. You will be watched. Be assured of that!"

The old auror stomped off into the corridor, while Minerva stood next to her younger self. She couldn't hear them as they talked, but Bellatrix had clear memory of McGonagall trying to comfort and reminisce with her old student. It had been an awkward yet oddly pleasant conversation.

Bellatrix waited outside the conference room, keeping to the shadows. A few minutes later and the door opened. Harry and Hermione were smiling and were followed out by a rather broody looking Ron. Harry and Hermione shared a brief embrace before they said their goodbyes and Hermione stepped over to her younger self. A brief glance revealed that Hermione stood next to her while her younger self put an arm around her waist. Hermione chose that moment to lay her head on her shoulder.

Harry watched them for a brief moment before stepping into the corridor, letting them be. Ronald Weasley, however, wore a pouty expression. He glanced at Hermione and her younger self and swore under his breath. Bellatrix, still wearing the mask, moved to stand next to him, leaning against the wall.

"Are you alright, lad?" she asked, voice muffled by the mask.

"I waited too long," replied Ron with a sigh. "It's my own fault, I think. We were 'sorta' together, but I never really pushed forward with it. And then Bellatrix Lestrange of all people swoops in and scoops her up. Story of my life."

"Chin up," said Bellatrix. "Miss Parkinson will be quite happy to enjoy your company."

Ron's head snapped to her. "Parkinson?!"

"Yes," Bellatrix started matter-of-factly.

"Pansy Parkinson?!"

"Again, yes."

"Pansy petty, bullying, mean-spirited, raven-haired, psycho, resting bitch-face Parkinson?!" Ron blinked, then seemed to think about it a bit more, his mouth broadening into a goofy, happy grin. "Yeeeaaahhhhh..." he let out.

Bellatrix chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go get her, tiger," she smirked behind her mask and the now happy boy ran off into the corridor, apparently going to look for his future wife. Now there was a fiery yet oddly loving relationship in the making. It wasn't only her own family she was here to ensure: Clive Weasley, Rigel's best friend, was now assured of his birth as well.

"Well," said Minerva McGonagall as she approached her. "If you are done matchmaking, perhaps we should discuss our plan of defense."

Bellatrix nodded, and the two of them stepped towards the head master's office.

"I do say that you seem a tick more well-adjusted than your younger self," said McGonagall.

"Trust me," said Bellatrix. "She has a long road ahead of her. Thank you for telling Moody that he needs to let the Death Eater defectors join our side. We're going to need them. And history records that they were here."

"Moody needs to let go of his old suspicions," said McGonagall. "And not waste time questioning everybody's loyalty."

"We're not ready," said Bellatrix. "Not by a long shot."

"More volunteers are coming in tomorrow," said McGonagall. "We're scrambling."

"Let's hope it's enough."

Though she already knew the outcome, she also knew it was going to be a tight victory. A Pyrrhic victory in many ways. A lot of good people would have their last day tomorrow.

True be told, she wasn't even quite sure of her own survival. History recorded that 'Batman' disappeared after the battle, but no details were known.

She desperately wanted to see her family again, but in her heart she knew that her death tomorrow would not be unlikely. If she had to make the ultimate sacrifice for her family, she would do so without a second thought. Still, it would be nice to think she would see them again, and would hold on to that hope.

* * *

When Hermione had gone to McGonagall to request a private room for her and Bellatrix, she had lined up many convincing arguments in her head: it would be better if Bellatrix was separated from the Order members in case of reprisals. It would be better if Bellatrix was somewhere where Hermione could keep an eye on her. Hermione would be in a better position to calm her down if something made Bellatrix fly off the handle. It would be better if Hermione wouldn't join the school's general population yet since there were many students who still believed the story which had been printed in the Daily Prophet.

However, all blood rushed to her head when McGonagall handed her a key to a guestroom and told her to 'have fun', making it abundantly clear that she knew exactly what the _real_ reason for wanting to have a private room to share with Bellatrix actually was.

McGonagall was not wrong. The moon shone brightly outside while she and Bellatrix lay in bed, embracing, kissing and caressing. Today was the first time Hermione would try to make Bellatrix feel the way she had made her feel earlier. The dark witch took a more passive role and gave Hermione a chance to experiment and explore.

The young witch let her hands slide over her dark lover's skin: her belly, her thighs, her breasts. Bellatrix particularly liked the way she massaged her breasts and Hermione was particularly proud of the way she made Bella sigh when she gently drew circles around a hardened nipple. She was certain that the way she let her hands slide over her hips and thighs were only clumsy fumblings, but the dark witch was patient and let her figure things out for herself.

Or maybe she was just being lazy today. One never quite knew with Bellatrix.

Truth be told, she got rather nervous and self-conscious about the next part: actually pleasuring Bellatrix. The dark witch had made it seem to easy when she did it to her and, Hermione being a healthy nineteen year old, she had certainly pleasured herself plenty of times... but doing it to someone else was an entire different matter.

She started off simply: gently massaging the outside of her lover's most sensitive part with three fingers pressed together, softly stroking up and down. "Hmmmm," sounded a long drawn-out hum of pleasure from the dark witch. "Inside," she demanded.

"L-like this?" Hermione stammered, gently entering her lover. Hermione was completely focused on the task like a scientist studying an ant-farm. She guessed that she was pushing forward at around the same depths as Bellatrix had inside of her... and the dark witch had done that crooking thing with her fingers and she tried to emulate that. Truthfully, she really didn't have any idea what exactly she was doing, but Bellatrix certainly seemed to like it. The dark witch closed her eyes and moaned slightly, throwing her head back and forth and grasped at the sheets. It made her feel rather proud of herself once more.

"Hmmm, Herrrrrrmioneeeee," Bellatrix hissed, overcome with pleasure. A hand reached down, fingers sliding through her brown hair. In between gasps and Hermione's rather concentrated pleasuring with her fingers, it took a bit before Hermione noticed that Bellatrix was pushing her head down. In fact, she didn't notice until the dark witch started to apply more force.

Finally, Hermione realized that the dark witch wanted her to pleasure her with her mouth. Another nervous shudder went through her. How could she focus on doing both at the same time? Okay, she did her best to keep up the rhythm with her fingers while figuring out how to apply her tongue. It was all a bit awkward at first, especially since she stuck out her tongue a little too far and hadn't really lain down in a comfortable position. After shifting a little and spreading Bellatrix's legs a little further, things went much better.

Hermione had really liked it when Bellatrix teased her with a few flicks of the tip of her tongue. She quickly found out that Bellatrix quite like that too.

Emboldened, she did her best and was rewarded by a dark witch letting out a few appreciative moans while arching her back. Finally laying in Bellatrix's arms, Hermione felt quite proud of herself.

"You are a quick and apt student, my precious little mudpet," Bellatrix husked, taking a moment to share a kiss with her young lover.

"I learn best by example," Hermione murmured softly as she pulled the duvet over both of them.

"Sly, sly little muddy," Bellatrix chuckled, tapping her girl's nose with the tip of her finger with every syllable spoken. "In that case, I have many more things to show you."

Hermione settled into the embrace. Bellatrix lay on her back while Hermione pressed against her side, her head parked on her shoulder while the dark witch stroked her brown hair. Hermione raised a hand to Bellatrix's chin, gently shifting her lover's head towards her. A brush of lips. A meeting of tongues. A flurry of gentle butterfly kisses.

"What do you think will happen tomorrow?" Hermione asked.

"A lot of people are going to die," said Bellatrix. "We won't be among them, though."

"Hm?"

"Think about it," said Bellatrix. "If I die tomorrow, that old bag in the mask won't exist to go back in time. And if you die tomorrow, the old bag won't have a reason to go back in time. We're pretty much untouchable."

"No reason to get cocky."

"Oh, of course not," said Bellatrix. "We should fight as if our lives depend on it, surely. But I'm completely certain that we won't be among the casualties."

"Makes me worry for those who are. Or might be," Hermione replied.

"Whatever happens, Hermione," said Bellatrix. "We'll be among the victors and we will dance on the graves of our enemies. Now... lay on your back. I have some particularly nasty tongue-twisters to introduce you to."

Hermione giggled when the dark witch let out a growl and flipped her on her back, crushing her lips on hers. Certainly they should get some sleep if they were going into battle tomorrow afternoon, but the night was young and Hermione certainly loved the idea of losing herself in some exquisite pleasure.

* * *

After a most pleasurable night with Bellatrix, Hermione did manage to get a bit of sleep in and woke up just in time for breakfast at the Great Hall. What was different, however, was the bustle of activity as more volunteers were arriving and part of the Great Hall was already being set up as a sort of field hospital. Two of the large tables had been replaced by a row of army cots while healing supplies were being carted in. Most students had been evacuated by now except for those whom had volunteered to either fight or help out with logistics or healing. There were now more volunteers at the breakfast tables than students.

Harry was sitting next to her at the table, eating his chicken sandwich. A far cry for the delicious English breakfasts that used to be served to the students, but she supposed the staff was having different priorities right now.

"Worried?" Hermione asked.

"You're not?" Harry replied. "Tonight it all comes to a head. McGonagall and Moody called us all in for a meeting later today about the horcruxes."

Harry shifted, making sure no one overheard. "The older Bellatrix apparently got the rest. Or at least knows about the rest. Still don't know what to make of all this time travel malarkey."

"Imagine my and my time-turner in our third year," said Hermione. "Only with a larger gap of time."

"You see, I couldn't really wrap my head around that either," chuckled Harry. "Well, as long you're happy and if she's not hurting you... she's not hurting you, is she?"

"No, Harry," Hermione laughed. "Though I do have some figure out a way how to explain this to my parents at some point. Bella, well, she's the same age as my parents."

"That's going to be an interesting conversation," said Harry.

"Where is Ron, by the way?" Hermione asked. "He's not angry with me, I hope."

Harry pointed to another table and there was Ron: hanging around a rather flabbergasted Pansy Parkinson as he was prancing around her, looking rather animated through his antics. Apparently, Pansy didn't really know what to make of it all.

"Pansy?" Hermione blinked. "Why is Ron hanging around that bimbo Parkinson?"

"I don't know!" replied Harry. "But he's been talking about her all night! I've spent most of last evening listening to Ron practicing the most cringe-worthy of lines on me. I helped him picked the best and now he's rattling them off."

Judging from her expression, Hermione almost felt sorry for Parkinson. Almost. "The best? _Those_ are the best ones?" Hermione raised an eyebrow after hearing a few of Ron's lines.

"Well, you should have heard some of the rejected ones," said Harry after finishing his sandwich. "See you at the meeting in an hour or two. Moody has me and a couple of the students pencilled in for some Defense Against the Dark Arts drills. He's expecting me to be a popular target tonight. Not the kind of popularity I was hoping for in my seventh year."

"Be safe, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry squeezed her shoulder. "You too."

Hermione finished off her breakfast, feeling so relieved that she had managed to keep her friendship with Ron and Harry intact. The young witch stood up from the table and walked into the corridor. If the battle was going to commence in the afternoon, she needed some quiet time to herself to center herself and prepare a little. If the older Bellatrix was to be believed, the battle was still going to be a hard won and a lot of the people in the Great Hall would not live to see tomorrow. She honestly didn't want to think about it.

She leaned on the parapet, looking out into the courtyard where volunteers were preparing for battle when she heard some commotion from the direction of the Great Hall.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Weasel!" shouted Pansy Parkinson as she sped into the corridor behind them. "But I want no part of it."

"Oh, my dear," said Ron. "If you were a dementor, I'd become a criminal just to get your kiss!"

"ARGH!" spat Parkinson while Hermione stifled a giggle. "STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!"

"You're the only thing I need in my Room of Requirement," Ron yelled after her. "Are you a snitch? Because you're the finest catch here!"

Parkinson was running now. Straight towards the Slytherin dungeon. "Talk to you later, Pans!" Ron called after her. By now, Ron had spotted Hermione, while she was still giggling. The two friends stood next to each other in the hallway, simply leaning against the wall. For a moment, after the giggles were done, the silence was palpable. "So, uhm," Ron started. "You... got Bellatrix Lestrange to switch sides?"

Hermione nodded. "Yup," she said. She hadn't meant for it to come out of her mouth quite that flippant, but there it was. The more the let Ron's statement rattle around in her mind, the more proud she became. No one was beyond redemption, beyond hope. And her newfound relationship with Bellatrix was living proof of that.

"That's, uhm, some skills you got there, Hermione," Ron replied.

"I suppose you could see it that way," Hermione chuckled. "I... I don't think I've done anything special. Just... giving a little bit of love and care to a person who was starving for it."

Ron chuckled. "Bet she's good in bed."

"Hey!" Hermione protested. "That's private!"

Ron quickly raised his hands. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, you and Bellatrix… you an girls… It's just that it goes a long way to explain why we never really got beyond the 'sorta together' stage."

"It was rather shocking news to me too, believe me," Hermione sighed.

"Not gonna lie. I don't understand girls. Not at all."

Hermione snorted. "Trust me, girls understand girls even less."

Ron shook his head and smiled to himself. "Friends?"

"Friends," Hermione said, remaining quiet for a moment. After making sure the corridor was empty and nobody was within earshot, she turned to Ron and gave him a cheeky grin. "She really _is_ good in bed, though."

Ron laughed. "Hah! I knew it!"

"So," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You and Pansy, huh?"

Ron gave her that goofy grin of hers. "Was feeling a mite down after, well, you know what happened yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Ron," added Hermione. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Ron shook his head. "Bellatrix came to me. The older one. The nicer one. Tells me I'm going to get together with Pansy."

"Pansy?!" Hermione blinked. "For real?!"

"Apparently," Ron laughed. "Didn't see that one coming either. I wonder what mum will say. Or if she'll like her."

After a moment, Hermione's stricken look turned into a grin. "I bet Pansy's good in bed."

"Hah!" laughed Ron. "Kinda hoping so. I rather like the idea of stealing her away from Malfoy too."

Ron and Pansy. What a combination: that relationship would be one of fire and fury. Still, if it made Ron happy, that would be good enough for her. Pansy might have been a mean-spirited harpy to her personally, but even she could see that Pansy was intelligent enough, passionate and lively. A better fit for Ron than she would be.

"I'll be fair," said Ron. "I think you're nuts. But I hope Bellatrix realizes just how lucky she is to have you."

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione spoke softly. Ron swiftly excused himself to think of new lines to try out on Pansy. Honestly, Hermione thought that time would be better spent preparing for battle, but every person coped differently, of course.

Another person approached her, from the shadows. A woman somewhat shorter than her, cloaked and wearing a beak-shaped mask stood next to her. "She doesn't realize just how lucky she is to have you," sounded the muffled voice of the older Bellatrix. "She will, though."

"How long have you been watching me?" Hermione asked. There was no malice or accusation on her voice, merely interest.

"Some time," said the older Bellatrix. "How could I not? You represent everything I've been fighting for. And tonight, everything finally comes to a close."

"Relieved?"

"Yes. And no," said the older Bellatrix. "I make no illusions that the final battle is going to be an easy one. But, so far, all I have done has been leading to this very moment."

The older Bellatrix reached out and ran her fingers through Hermione's hair. "I love you," the older Bellatrix whispered from behind the mask. "Whatever happens tonight, know that at least."

Hermione didn't quite know how to respond to that. This woman was her Bellatrix and then she was not. She was some other, older Hermione's Bellatrix. It made Hermione's head hurt a little to think about it. Harry was right: temporal mechanics was the stuff of nightmares and led only to headaches.

It also didn't help that a bolt of magic suddenly slammed into the stones right between them, causing the older Bellatrix to draw her wand and snap around while Hermione yelped and jumped to one side. The source of the bolt of magic revealed herself as a seething younger Bellatrix, aiming her wand at the masked woman.

"Keep your sticky fingers out of Hermione's hair, you wicked crone!" the younger Bellatrix hissed at her older self, who looked on with a rather bemused cock of her head, making her look like a curious crow.

"You do realize that she's my wife, right?" sounded a rather mocking muffled voice.

"Not yet, she isn't!" the younger Bellatrix retorted. "Your Hermione lives 20 years in the future. Feel free to stroke _her_ hair, but keep your greedy fingers off _this_ Hermione! She's all mine, including her hair, not yours!"

Hermione looked on lamely. "Bella…"

"Yes?" Both Bellatrixes said simultaneously, causing Hermione to turn her head between the two of them and finally settling on the younger Bellatrix.

"Bella, it's fine," said Hermione. "I'm sure she doesn't mean anything by it."

"No it's not fine! I will not have her steal you from me!" Bellatrix bristled. "And she of all people should know better than anyone that nobody touches what is mine! You! You might be a future me, but don't think that'll stop me from hexing you! I'll only give you one warning and nothing more. Do… NOT… touch… my… _HERMIONE_!"

"It was just a stroke through her hair," Bellatrix said, her hand hovering near Hermione's head once more. Apparently, this was far too close for her younger self's liking. A shriek. A raised wand. Magic crackling through the air. The older Bellatrix let out an anguished cry as her hand felt as it if had been set on fire, quickly cradling it to her chest.

"BELLA!" Hermione protested. "Stop it! Nothing untoward happened!"

"That was your one and only warning!" Bellatrix hissed. "Next one will send you straight to the infirmary and don't think for a second that I won't do it! Even if you are me. Or will be me. Or whatever! STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRL!"

Her older self hissed and shook her hand a little until the feeling started to come back. "I don't know why I did that," the older Bellatrix chuckled to herself. "I distinctly remember hexing myself just like this."

"Bella, why did you do that?" Hermione admonished.

"Because I know myself, pet," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her older self. "I know how much I want you. So I know exactly how much _she_ wants you too! I will not leave you alone with her."

"Don't you think I have a say in this matter too?" Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm not without agency here. And I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me."

"But that's the whole problem!" snarled Bellatrix. "She is me! And I am her! And if she wants you as much than I do, then I expect her be willing to do anything to get you, even going as far to kill me to take my place! So yes, Bellatrix… stay… the fuck… away from _MY_ Hermione! And trust me, I'll be watching you closely!"

The older Bellatrix laughed for a moment. "She's a possessive one, really," she said to Hermione. "Don't worry, she'll get over it. For the most part…"

"Don't push your luck, bitch!" Bellatrix snarled. "Now bugger off before I blast your pretty little tits right off your chest!"

"Those are your tits too, you know?" chuckled the older Bellatrix.

Bellatrix showed her a mocking pout. "Not yet."

The older Bellatrix held up her hands and turned to Hermione to give a nod. She skulked off into the corridor, where she no doubt would resume her lurking soon.

"Bellatrix, that was unnecessary," Hermione admonished.

"Just looking out for our best interests, my sweet little Hermione," Bellatrix smiled, reaching out to stroke Hermione's hair for good measure. "Hm... after the battle, she'll have outlived her usefulness. I think I should kill her then. Yes. I should definitely kill her."

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Hermione yelled, hooked her arm around Bellatrix' and guided her away from the corridor. From the distance, she could still feel the older Bellatrix' eyes on her. Perhaps it was for the best to avoid her for a bit. It wasn't a good idea to have two of their strongest witches having a go at each other right before the final battle against Voldemort had even started.


	20. Self-hatred

A scant hours before the battle was to commence, Bellatrix had been called into a meeting with all the squad leaders at McGonagall's office. Once she'd arrived, she found a rather nervous group of about twenty people gathered around a maquette of Hogwarts where little flags indicated defensive positions. Most of the people there she did not recognize, but the looks on their faces told her everything she needed to know about their thoughts on the upcoming battle. There were a lot of grim faces in the room. And for good reason.

Moody was there, of course, as the leader of the Order, as was McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione and Antonin as representative of the ex-Death Eaters.

"Ah, there you are," gruffed Moody. "You can remove your mask. All people here know of your identity and it will talk easier face to face."

Though Bellatrix was reluctant to do so, she warily removed her mask and set it on the table. There were a few surprised faces, of course, regardless. Antonin gave her a nod as she joined the group.

"Let us begin," said Moody. "Thanks to our visitor from the future, we have exact knowledge of the number of the Dark Lord's forces and their approach vectors. We've shored up defenses along the courtyard. But there is a more important matter to discuss first. What I am about to say, may never leave this room."

The group stood at attention while Moody paced back and forth. "Through ancient ritual, the Dark Lord has created several horcruxes, six in total. Through this method he has split his soul in seven pieces. This is what allowed him to return in the first place and if even one of them survives, he will come back again after we defeat him today. These things _need_ to be destroyed _before_ the Dark Lord falls. I do not think the wizarding world will survive a third return of the Dark Lord, even if we defeat him today."

"Do we know where they are?" asked one of the aurors.

"Settle down, lad, I was getting to that," replied Moody. "Three of the six have already been destroyed, thanks to the intrepid actions of Mr. Potter and his friends."

Bellatrix almost smiled when she saw both Harry and Hermione's chests puff up a little with pride. It was awfully cute.

"Again, thanks to our friend from the future," he regarded Bellatrix. "We have identified and located three more horcruxes. Two of which are on McGonagall's desk over there. They are the very reason why the Dark Lord is attacking Hogwarts in a few hours and will be destroyed during the battle."

"Two," asked another auror, a female one this time. "Where's the third one?"

"That's where it gets complicated," said Moody, his face grim. "The third one is the Dark Lord's familiar, the snake Nagini."

Worried glances were exchanged before Moody continued. "Expect the Dark Lord to keep the snake close to him at all times, yet she needs to be destroyed first. Order all your squad-members to consider the snake a high-value target. It needs to be destroyed at all costs."

Now, it was time to speak up with what could possibly be the worst possible news. "Moody," Bellatrix interrupted. "There is a seventh."

The old wizard's head snapped to her, eye widening and then glowering. "You think to tell us this only _now?!"_ he bristled.

"There's a good reason for that," said Bellatrix. "The seventh one is Harry Potter."

The moment she spoke the word, Potter snapped his head to her and blinked, trying to process that information. "Wait? What?!"

"It was created accidentally when his killing curse rebounded back in 1981," said Bellatrix. "He doesn't even know himself."

"This is preposterous!" yelled one of the aurors while Antonin looked on with interest.

"No, it makes sense," spoke the ex-Death Eater. "Horcruxes are created mainly by three ingredients. The ultimate will to survive death by any cost, the sacrifice of life in favor of one's own and an object to store part of the soul in. The Dark lord has the first one in spades, won't hesitate to sacrifice lives for his own and there are no clear rules about the receptacle of the soul-shard. The receptacle being a living person is not implausible."

"Judging by what I've learned about the creation of horcruxes," Hermione added. "Mr. Dolohov is absolutely correct."

Harry Potter stepped forward, looking white as a sheet. "Wait! Stop a moment. STOP! Are you telling me that there's a piece of _him_ inside of _me_?!" he shouted. "Because that's not okay!"

McGonagall stepped forward and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll have to do some tests to confirm this and figure something out."

"We don't have time for debates or testing!" Bellatrix bristled. "The Dark Lord is on his way here as we speak! His scouts are already observing the castle! Time is not on our side and we have to act now or lose this war forever."

Judging from the murmurs going through the group, her warning was about to fall on deaf ears. So be it. It was time to ask decisively. Bellatrix snapped her wand to her side, pouring not her will to kill into her spell, but rather her desperation for the sake of her family. "Avada kedavra," she whispered carefully.

Several things happened at once.

A sickeningly green bolt shot from Bellatrix's wand.

McGonagall gasped in horror.

Hermione let out a scream.

Moody shouted out that she was a jobby-flavoured fart lozenge, whatever that meant.

Bellatrix found almost all wands in the room aimed at her and she quickly dropped hers, slowly raising her arms. Not a second later, she was grabbed by at least five people and thrown against the wall, Antonin put in a similar state. Things got a little hazy after Moody's cane struck her against the jaw, jerking her head to one side while she let out a pained grunt. One of the female aurors yelled something about making a pyre and burning her at the stake in the courtyard.

One voice, however, would silence them all.

"I'M FINE!" shouted Harry Potter as he, in a rather dazed fashion, was helped to his feet by a concerned Hermione.

All head turned to Harry, just as a cloud of arid blackness rose in wisps from his body. The smoke coalesced into a shape vaguely resembling a man. And it seemed to scream in denial and agony as the smoke finally dissipated slowly.

The gathered group was stunned. They had seen the boy hit with the killing curse and also seen him survive for a second time. Not a word was spoken while Harry looked himself over. "I feel odd," Harry said.

"Seriously, Moody, is that how you treat a lady?" Bellatrix muttered and rubbed her aching jaw. "No wonder you're single."

Moody snorted. "You are no lady," he shook his head. "Don't ever do something like this again or I _will_ have that pyre and stake built for you!"

"This is going to bruise," Bellatrix muttered. "I think some of my teeth are loose..."

"See a healer later," Moody gruffed.

"Like I said, we don't have time for _any_ of this," replied Bellatrix, still rubbing her jaw. "Do you think the Dark Lord will wait for us to finish navel-gazing?! The problem's resolved now, so focus on the defensive tactics and destroying Nagini."

At least the Potter boy had recovered somewhat now, though Hermione still hadn't been too happy with her actions, she wasn't overly angry either. Some grumbling and glares later, the conversation was about to resume to the topic of tactics.

"Let us not forget," McGonagall broke in. "Our greatest strength is the quality and devotion of our people. Moody, you've been fighting the dark arts all your life and you've brought this experience with you to this final battle. Hestia, your devotion to justice has been a driving force ever since your first year at Hogwarts. Aarwynd, your love for your family is overwhelmingly strong... let it guide you. Harry, Hermione... both your bravery and talent is undeniable."

McGonagall strode towards her now. "Bellatrix," she said. "You bear the reputation of being the most dangerous dark witch alive. And we have _two_ of you."

Of course. McGonagall knew everyone in this room. Perhaps she had a point: the people here wanted to be here. They wanted to fight. They wanted to stand up to the Dark Lord.

She just hoped it would be enough.

* * *

The golden watch was in her hand, the time mercilessly winding down as Bellatrix watched the second hand move closer to 5:38, the documented time the battle of Hogwarts would commence. Less than an hour now. With every tick of her watch, it was getting ever and mercilessly closer.

She'd be lying if she'd say she wasn't nervous.

From underneath her mask, Bellatrix stood on the parapet of the courtyard watching more and more last minute volunteers coming in. Good. They'd need every wand they could get. By now all students and non-combatants had been evacuated to safety.

The ex-Death Eaters arrived as well, and she knew that most of them actually wanted to fight. Antonin kept speaking for them, even though they were kept separated from the rest of the defenders... and constantly flanked by a group of aurors with their wands out: a sign of Moody's endless paranoia. They'd have to prove themselves and they soon would.

Her younger self was skulking about the courtyard as she tried to provoke some of the defenders, taunted the aurors and generally was making a nuisance of herself while Hermione was not around to reel her in. Bellatrix bowed her head and covered her mask's eyes with her hand as she sighed in severe embarrassment at her past antics. Her younger self thought herself untouchable and acted accordingly.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar face in a group being led into the Great Hall. She smiled and made her way down and into the Great Hall, where the field hospital had now been fully set up and was ready for business. And, bloody hell, were they going to need it.

The healers were setting up for triage. One of them, was Andie. Bellatrix pocketed the watch and headed down into the Great Hall to see her.

Nymphadora was already there fussing over her: she was worried, like many of the volunteers. But Andie wouldn't hear it and put all the things she had learned during her stint at St. Mungo's to work. When Andie spotted her masked self, she quickly waved her over.

"Ah, there you are," said Nymphadora to her. "Tell this crazy harpy that she needs to go back home right now!"

"Don't call your mother a crazy harpy!" Andie narrowed her eyes.

"It'll be fine," said Bellatrix. "Future knowledge, remember? Worry about yourself instead, Dora."

Though Nymphadora accepted this answer and relaxed a little, Andie tensed up considerably. "Why?" she asked, her voice pitched a little higher. "Do you know something?!"

"Relax," Bellatrix raised her hands. "I only meant to say that having future knowledge is no reason to get cocky."

Andie nodded. "I know we're all in danger, but I can't just sit back and do nothing. I want Ted to come home. I want my grandson to be safe. I want to fight for our future too."

"Mum," Nymphadora muttered, her tone one of concern.

"Hush," Andie shot back with a smile. "I'm staying and that is final."

Bellatrix smiled underneath her mask and placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. Just in time to hear a familiar shriek sounding from right behind her. "YOU!" sounded her younger self. "TRAITOR! What are you doing here?!"

Andie looked startled, but Bellatrix was ready. With one swift movement, she stood between her yourself and both her niece and sister. Her younger self had her wand out, as had Nymphadora. There was a mad gleam in her younger self's dark eyes, sheer hatred aimed at her sister. Bellatrix had know that this moment was coming, so she kept in between her younger self and her sister as best she could.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Bellatrix shouted angrily. "That's your sister for Merlin's sake!"

"Bella," Andie said, placing her hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. I'll find a quiet place and wait for, well, the other Bella to calm down."

Bellatrix snapped her masked head back and forth between Andie and her younger self. "No, it's _not_ fine! You shouldn't have to worry about being attacked by your own big sister!"

Her younger self let out a pig-like snort while rolling her eyes. "Circe's tits, I'm really going to become a simpleton, aren't I?"

"For your information, Bella, one year from now, you'll be crying on your knees _begging_ for Andie's forgiveness!" Bellatrix snarled.

Her younger self's reaction was one of a wild eyed stare in disbelief, slowly morphing in rage. "You lie! Andie needs to beg for _my_ forgiveness! She..."

Bellatrix didn't let her finish and instead moved in front of Andie again, blocking any attacks. Nymphadora was getting a mite nervous now, but was more than willing to defend her mother should things go sour. Bellatrix wouldn't let it come to that. "Trust me, I'm not above a little self-harm," she glowered. "Do. Not. Push. Me!"

Bellatrix let out a high-pitched giggle. "Oh, are you now? When did I become so weak and simpering, hm? Perhaps it is I who should be insulted."

"Oh, I took you down once. I can do it again!"

"Hah, I'm ready for you now. Last time, you just got lucky, hag!" her younger self snorted. "You know you can't stand up to me in my prime, so you had to trick me. Fight dishonestly."

"Hag?!" Bellatrix bristled. "I look younger than you do with those bags under your eyes and sweet merlin, go see a bloody hair-dresser! You've been out of Azkaban for over a year! What's your bloody excuse for that mop?!"

"How dare you judge my hair when you don't even bother covering up your grey streaks, granny?!" her younger self snarled. So focused was she on insulting herself that her younger self had failed to notice that Nymphadora had managed to drag Andie away and out of harm's way. "I know why you wear that mask! You use a crow's beak to hide your crow's feet!"

"Are you quite done with your little tantrum?" Bellatrix mocked.

"I haven't even started yet, hag!" her younger self said, her mouth contorting into a vicious grin. "So how many kids did you have? Two? My, my, my, two little spawns. Are they as weak and pathetic as you are?! Wittle, bitty ickle bwabwies."

Oh, she had known her younger self would go there, but it was still making her seethe. A tremor went through her body, eyes shining dangerously behind the mask. A gloved hand balled into a fist and she wanted nothing more than to break her younger self's nose. Before letting go and smiling. "I remember being you, Bella. I remember, deep down, being scared of everything. You won't provoke me. I'm not you anymore. I'm not scared anymore."

"I fear nothing, old bitch! And that just means I'll have to try harder!" said her younger self. "Draw your wand. DO IT! You only defeated me because you took me by surprise. You won't stand a chance against me in a fair duel!"

Bellatrix snorted and drew her wand. "Alright," she smirked underneath the mask. "Let's go!"

Before she had even finished the first sentence, the first spell was already flying in her direction. The dark witch swiftly side-stepped it and raised her wand to block the next incoming attack. Bellatrix cursed under her breath: her younger self was attacking her right in the middle of the Great Hall which was currently filled with people. Though most of those people noticed that there was something happening, there was still a chance of casualties if things would get out of hand.

Not that her younger self seemed to care, however. Bellatrix have to put an end to this quickly before someone could be caught in the crossfire.

"You're slow, granny!" her younger self cackled, throwing her head back, hair spilling about as she blocked and retaliated. "Try to keep up!"

Bellatrix had to admit that her younger self was good. Very, very, good. The rage and power she threw behind her spells was undeniable. Still, Bellatrix was no fool nor would she allow herself to be defeated by this cackling madwoman. The two witches circled each other, both testing the waters a little.

"You're weak! Simpering! Pathetic!" her younger self grinned at her. "I can't believe I allowed myself to become a shadow like you! You lack backbone! You lack bite!"

Bellatrix pursed her lips. Taunts and provocations were all part of the duel, after all. And her younger self had been a master of taunts. "At least I've learned to control my temper tantrums. Or my paranoia. Kill any foxes lately?" she said after blocking an incoming bolt.

"Hah!" her younger self chuckled. "Rage fuels my power! A lesson you seem to have forgotten!"

"Oh, I have more than enough rage, Bellatrix," she replied while conjuring a spectral fist, which promptly rammed into her younger self's stomach. Surprise was etched on her face as she coughed loudly and quickly spun out of the way of another incoming bolt.

"Prove it!" her younger self said, lowering her one. "Come on, I'll give you a free shot. Make it your best!"

"I don't need your charity, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix threw her head back and let out another cackle. "I gave you an opening and you refused? I would have used any opening for any reason to completely annihilate an enemy! You're pathetic!"

Her younger self flicked her wand and two cots lifted off the ground and came flying towards her with tremendous speed. Bellatrix barely managed to blink herself over a short distance to avoid being thrown into the wall.

By now, their little duel was starting to attract more attention. Both aurors and volunteers were giving them a wide birth, not sure of what to do while witnessing two of their most powerful soldiers having a go at each other. It didn't seem like any of them would intervene.

"I am not you!" Bellatrix hissed, taking a defensive stance. "No longer!"

"Oh, I don't know what Hermione sees in you," her younger self laughed. "You're not worthy of her."

Oh, that did it. The downside of duelling yourself is that no spell could protect her from the taunts and her younger self knew exactly where her taunts would hurt the most. Losing her temper, three curses were slung at her opponent in rapid succession Bellatrix waved her wand wildly. Her younger opponent seemed pleasantly surprised, even though she easily blocked all three of them. The two witches circled each other. Bellatrix felt her chest heaving as anger soared through her. Lightning short from her wand aimed at her younger self's heart... the other Bellatrix did the same and the lighting met in the middle. Both held their wands tightly as the magic coalesced. It was a battle of will from here on.

"WRETCH OF A WOMAN!" Bellatrix shouted. "YOU DESTROYED YOUR LIFE! YOU DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY! YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU ARE OFFAL! YOU DESERVE PAIN! YOU DESERVE TO SUFFER!"

"OH!" her younger self smiled wildly, putting more force into her magic. "There you go. Stoke that fire some more!"

"I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

"Awww, what a self-righteous wittle bwabwy," her younger self mocked while both witches struggled to gain the upper hand in their battle of wills. "You know what I think? I think Hermione has a pretty young witch on the side. Someone wild and dangerous. Someone who can challenge her and keep her interest. Some pretty young witch who reminds her of who you used to be. I am the woman Hermione fell in love with. Not you. She wants _me_. _Only_ me!"

Black spots started to form in front of Bellatrix's eyes. A rage she hadn't felt for over a decade overcame her, overruled her and guided her actions. With a fierce sneer on her face, she put all her will into her lighting and easily knocked her younger backwards. Before her younger self could react, she raised her wand.

"Crucio," sounded.

A whisper.

But the magic hit her younger self with a force that blasted through all her defenses and Bellatrix had poured enough rage into her spell that it would have been enough to fell an elephant.

The younger self cried out in agony and fell to the ground. But Bellatrix wasn't done. "CRUCIO!" she shouted and hit the downed woman again. More wails. More agony. "CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!"

It made her feel good. So very good.

There was no intervention from the surrounding people, perhaps they were simply too stunned to actually take action. And she had no intention to stop. Until she heard... that voice.

"STOP IT!"

Hermione.

"PLEASE! STOP IT!"

Bellatrix saw that Hermione came running, shouting and diving forward, skidding to a halt right next to her wailing younger self.

Bellatrix was about to sling another spell when she realized that Hermione was now blocking its path. Her body trembled and her hands shook when she realized just what she had done.

Her younger self's wailing had stopped. She lay on the ground panting and coughing, with Hermione at her side. The younger Bellatrix looked up, a wide grin on her face. Her panting and coughing was slowly replaced by a deep, mocking giggle. "Oh, there you are. There's the fire," she spoke, her voice a little weak from the agony she'd had to endure. "I was only too happy to remind you who you truly are. You can deny it all you want. But I'm still inside of you, clawing to get out. I'll _always_ be a part of you!"

The world was spinning. Bellatrix felt her hands starting to shake. Her wand clattered to the ground. Out. She had to get out of there.

So she ran. Utterly horrified of what she had just done, it was the only thing she could do. Corridor after corridor. Courtyard after courtyard. Finally, not even knowing where she was, she dove into a side-room and yanked the mask off her face. Her hands. Her hands were shaking. Her entire body was shaking. She couldn't stop it.

Oh, Merlin, what had she done?!

She ran a hand through her hair, fighting to keep down the bile she felt in her throat. She took a few deep breaths, tried to do the self-meditation but found that she was simply too far beyond the ability to center herself.

"Are you alright?" sounded Hermione behind her. The young witch was panting, having apparently run after her.

"I don't remember this happening? Why can't I remember? Did I change something? Have I erased my family?" Bellatrix muttered, the thought too horrible to consider. "Have I erased our future because I couldn't control myself?!"

"Have you considering that you can't remember because you don't want to remember?" Hermione offered.

"Repressed memory? I... suppose."

"You said yourself that you weren't exactly stable at this point in your life," said Hermione. "That doesn't do wonders for accurate memories."

"I thought I'd left that part of me behind," replied Bellatrix, her voice a rasp. "I thought I'd healed."

"You hate her," Hermione started matter-of-factly.

"She _is_ me," Bellatrix replied softly. "I hate what I used to be. Someone who can only destroy everything she touches. I... I fought so hard to leave her behind me."

"There's good in you. The younger you, I mean," Hermione replied. "She held me when I mourned my grandmother. I held her when she thought her life was falling apart. We helped each other at the Cairngorms sanctuary. Yes, her darkness is inside of you. But your light is inside of _her_ as well. And I want the whole package."

Bellatrix shook her head. "When I heard those foul words coming out of her mouth I just lost it," she muttered. "She knew exactly what would get to me... because she _is_ me."

"Back there, those were just taunts," replied Hermione. "And I'll have words with her over her telling you that I'll need some pretty young witch to keep me occupied. I don't like being called a cheater before our relationship has even officially started. I hope you'll remember that..."

There was a smile on her face when Hermione stepped forward and took her in a firm embrace. "You're as much the Bella I fell in love with as the Bella in the Great Hall," said Hermione. "You travelled decades through time to make sure we'd end up together. I can't think of a more romantic thing than that."

"You have no idea just how special you are to me, Hermione," Bellatrix said, tightening the embrace.

"Tell me," Hermione smiled. "Do you still call me 'mudpet'?"

Bellatrix snorted. "Only in bed," she smirked.

"Fair enough."

A third voice was added the choir. "Ah!" sounded her younger self as she stepped into the side-room. "And once again you are attempting to steal..."

"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione released Bellatrix from the embrace and turned towards her younger self. "Bella?" Hermione asked, addressing her. "Would you give us a moment alone, please?"

She'd known Hermione long enough to know when she was angry. It was often quite hard to tell when she was, as there was usually only a subtle hint of anger on her voice. The tone of voice Hermione was using now let Bellatrix know that she was absolutely seething.

Her younger self had no idea of the oncoming lorry which was about to hit her.

* * *

Bellatrix stood outside, next to the now closed door. It had taken her a few moments was considerably more calmed down right now, though still severely embarrassed by what happened in the Great Hall, what was happening behind that closed door made her rather happy. An angry voice could be heard, muffled by the door: it was only Hermione who was speaking, and her younger self could barely get a word in. It lasted for minutes until the door was suddenly flung open and an irate Hermione came rushing out.

"Is that what you think of me?!" Hermione shouted back inside the room while a rather timid looking younger Bellatrix stepped towards the doorway. "You shout out in front of a whole group of people that you expect me to cheat on you in the future?! Do you realize how embarrassing that is?!"

"Hermione!" her younger self pleaded, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I didn't mean to say that at all!"

"So enlighten me, then," Hermione crossed her arms. "What _did_ you mean to say exactly?"

"It was just a taunt! I was trying to get a rise out of her! Of course I don't expect you to cheat."

"Next time you want get a rise out of someone, do me a favor and leave me out of it!"

"Hermione!" her younger self yelled after Hermione after the young witch stalked off into the corridor in a huff.

Her younger self sighed in resignation while Bellatrix smirked. Her younger self leaned against the wall next to her while she offered her a grin. "This is all _your_ fault!" her younger self crossed her arms and pouted angrily.

"You accuse Hermione of cheating and somehow that's my fault?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean, hag! It's because of you that Hermione and I had our first fight," her younger self huffed.

"Get used to it. It won't be the last one, not by a long-shot," Bellatrix chuckled.

"So the fire doesn't die out?" her younger self asked.

"Trust me, Hermione and I have a very fiery relationship," laughed Bellatrix. "Do yourself a favor and don't bring up Brexit in your future household."

"Brexit?"

"Well, you'll find out eventually."

"Good to know," her younger self muttered.

Bellatrix remained silent for a moment, turning her head towards her younger self. "By now you're thinking how much Hermione reminds you of Kezia."

Her younger self seemed a little stricken. Her expression softened as she pursed her lips and cast her eyes downward. "They're a lot alike. Proud, eager to prove herself, wanting to excel."

"Headstrong, but with a kinder heart than ours," Bellatrix added.

"And yet one hell of a mean streak," her younger self smiled at the memories.

"I know. I missed Kezia too," said Bellatrix. "They really are so much alike."

"Hm," her younger self let out a brief sigh. "It's not fair to compare the two. Not to either of them."

Wise words. From her younger self even.

"Some good moves back there. Good to know I haven't lost my touch," said her younger self.

Bellatrix snorted. "You _do_ realize I fought a year long one-woman war against the Dark Lord's forces. You think you'd lose your touch with age?"

"A duel is different from an assassination," her younger self. "And you didn't do bad at all!"

"Not bad for a simpering, pathetic granny, you mean?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"Taunts are part of the duel. You know how the game is played. I had to remind you who you are."

"In that case, I'll remind you of who you could be."

Silence followed.

"I still hate you," said her younger self.

"Same," replied Bellatrix.

"Good," nodded her younger self. "So we know where we stand. Didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"I won't," said Bellatrix. "Neither of us are strangers to self-hatred."

"You forced me in becoming a traitor," bristled her younger self. "I will never forgive you for that!"

"I know. Loyalty is an important value to me too."

"I don't know how to deal with this," her younger self said. "The idea of being thought of as a traitor. Even if it was to 'defect' to the so-called 'good' side."

"Learn to be loyal to Hermione instead," said Bellatrix. "It'll help."

Her younger self remained silent again, until she quietly asked a question. "Tell me. Are Hermione and I… you… we… happy?"

"You think I'd bother traveling back in time if it wasn't worth fighting for it with everything I have?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. That answer seemed to please her younger self.

Another question followed. Her younger self's voice was small and fragile when she spoke the words. "Will... will Andie and Cissy ever forgive me?"

Bellatrix was surprised and touched by the softness and sincerity in that question. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. "They will," Bellatrix replied. "But it'll take time. And hard work. Practice the word 'sorry'. You'll be saying it a lot."

Her younger self nodded. "Bella?" she asked. "Tell me about your… my… our children."

"I can't tell you that," replied Bellatrix. "I mean, well, I could, but wouldn't you rather find out on your own?"

Her younger self seemed to give it some thought. "I suppose."

Bellatrix realized something. Something important. This was the moment. This was when it happened. The older witch kept her face as neutral as possible, though the urge to grin was something fierce. "I'll tell you something else, though," she said, her tone utterly serious. "And this is vital. Absolutely vital. So listen carefully because I will only say this once and only to you. You must never share this with anyone else. Not even Hermione. It's _that_ vital. Understood?"

Her younger self's curiosity was certainly piqued and she had her full attention. Her older self pretended to look around the hallway for a bit to see if the coast was clear. Bellatrix leaned forward to whisper her vitally important message in her younger self's ear.

"Subscribe to PewDiePie."

Her younger self frowned, staring at her intently. "Subscribe to Phew The Pie?"

"Ssht!" Bellatrix shushed her younger self and pretended to look around. "Quiet! Don't let anyone hear it! It'll all make sense later, I promise you. Just don't tell anyone, not even Hermione. Understood?"

Her younger self nodded. "Understood."

"Good," she said. "Now remember it. Keep it close. Keep it secret!"

Her younger self seemed determined enough and stared ahead of her, mouthing the words as she committed them to memory. Bellatrix' facade almost broke at that moment, but she pushed it down before her younger self could catch on.

For years, she would agonize over that single, damning phrase. It would keep her up at night, or haunt her dreams. She looked for references to this strange name in many obscure magic texts. She would secretly consult magical experts of many nations without any results for almost fifteen years. She'd look around for any clues or references to this strange phrase everywhere, without result.

It was only until quite far in her recovery process where she finally found out what it had meant, from her own perspective only a few years ago. And when she had, she had thrown the most epic tantrum the Black household had ever seen in front of a very confused Hermione. It had taken her almost a full day to calm down, having rushed into the fields to shout her throat sore at everything around her. It had come so far that Bellatrix was at a point of going out to find and kill Felix Kjellberg and Hermione had barely managed to talk her out of it.

Indeed, it was one of the best pranks she had pulled in her entire life. On herself of all people.

However, more recently, she honestly quite enjoyed watching his meme-reviews with her son. Even missed it. She waxed melancholic again then, hoping for the moment she could do so again.


	21. Self-destructive

They knew the Dark Lord would attack from the east side of the castle, where the courtyard was. Truth be told, it would be the perfect killzone and defenses had been set up accordingly. Mobile position one would be set up in front of the bridge leading towards the gate. Mobile position two at the outer courtyard near the gate. Mobile position three would be at the inner courtyard. The whole of the school would be covered with a magical shield. Hogwarts' enchanted suits of armor would be the vanguard and the bridge was set up to be blow to prevent ground troops from entering the castle.

It was a sound tactic.

The shield was the first to go, almost immediately.

Mobile position one was breached within the first minute.

The bridge had to be blown just about ninety seconds in.

Mobile position two was breached by the third minute.

It was far more brutal than Bellatrix remembered. But then again, being in the heat of battle roaring with bloodlust while magic exploded all around you didn't do wonders for accurate memories. Her younger self's cackles could be clearly heard over the sounds of battle as she tore into her opponents with unbound ferocity. Bellatrix herself, perhaps belying her changed nature, was a more defensive fighter who zipped across the battlefield to take the pressure off the more younger and inexperienced fighters. As someone who was used to striking from the shadows, being out in the open was more than a little daunting.

Bellatrix kept an eye on the skies as the defenders scrambled to fall back to mobile position three, which were battlements and barricades set up near the main entrance of Hogwarts. The next step, if it came to that, would be withdrawal into the Great Hall, which would risk exposing the non-combatants and the wounded which were hurriedly being moved deeper into the castle.

She gasped when a massive hand folded around the courtyard wall: apparently, one of the giants was a tad smarter than his peers and rather than looking gormless at the blown bridge from the other side, this one had decided to scale the walls. Regardless, his bulk now blocked the retreat of a group of students who were now on the verge to scattering in a panic. Bellatrix sprang into action, magically rushing towards the giant as he swung down his club in a slow but devastating arc. Moments before the impact, Bellatrix appeared in front of the students and managed to raise a shield over herself just in time to catch the blow.

Even though she was protected by the magic, the impact of the bone-crushing blow reverberated through her entire body, forcing her to her knees. She let out a grunt as one of her knees splashed into the muddy dirt.

"GO!" she hissed to the startled kids under a labored breath. The students found their resolve and immediately rushed back towards the entrance to take cover. Which left the giant for her to deal with. The giant was smart enough to scale the wall, but not smart enough to realize what was happening and looked at his club as it if was broken for not having turned Bellatrix into a puddle of red paste. That was all the opening Bellatrix needed. With a grunt, magic exploded outward, causing the giant to lose his footing and sending him back down. With any luck, the bugger would break his neck during the fall and wouldn't be seen again.

Bellatrix panted heavily, needing a moment to recover by leaning against the wall. "Fuck me," she muttered to herself. "I'm getting too old for this…"

All in all, the battle wasn't going well. Nobody had been prepared for the sheer onslaught the Dark Lord was throwing at them. Though the bridge had been blown and gave them some relief from Voldemort's ground troops, the wizards and witches of his army had no trouble getting inside the courtyard without a bridge. Death eaters were pouring in and Bellatrix had turned to frantically duelling multiple opponents at once. Most snatchers were a farce, of course, but some of her old peers were more than a handful to deal with.

Her cloak whipped around her as she turned around her axis and blasted one snatcher off his feet while yanking another to the ground with her wand-whip. Magic crackles filled the air as more of the defenders retreated to the barricades. Mobile position three was very defensible, but against this? How long could they last?

Most dangerous were the skies, however. Up there, underneath the looming Morsmordre, were the dementors. Even so often, one of them would shoot down from the sky to snatch up some unfortunate lad or lass and then drop down whatever husk was left after they were done fighting for the scraps of soul. The dementors, at least, weren't discriminating and picked up the occasional snatcher or Death Eater too in their feeding frenzy. A group of students from behind the barricade were summoning their patroni to ward them off as best they could and were reasonably successful at keeping them at bay.

Again, she heard a cackle over the sounds of battle: her younger self had been sticking close to Hermione. As such, her younger self was being a very effective lightning rod for incoming fire for the golden trio, who all were very popular targets. Even from here, she could tell that Hermione was nervous... Hermione would later confide in her that she'd been terrified to the point of shitting herself.

Bellatrix effectively covered the golden trio's retreat and was not adverse to using killing curses or an even nastier spell which had caused a snatcher or two to explode in a cloud of blood and flying bone-shards which would injure other nearby enemies.

'Carnem et ossa'.

A dark art her younger self had invented: turning one's opponents into a 'living grenade', she had once heard it described. Later in life, she would hunt down every single existing casting guide to destroy them.

Her younger self had broken off from the main defenders and was about to make a foolhardy charge into a group of snatchers. Before she could do so, Bellatrix rushed forward and grabbed her by the arm. Her younger self instantly snapped her head at her in blind, wide-eyed rage, looking as if she was about to attack her. "NO!" Bellatrix hissed at her younger self. "Back to the barricades! NOW!"

For a moment, it seemed as if her younger self was about to spit in her face and jerk herself free. Logic won over blood lust that day, albeit reluctantly.

By now, most of the survivors had retreated to the gate: she, Antonin and Penelope were the last ones out and quickly retreated. The ex-Death Eaters had been fighting like lions, considering they had something to prove.

There was a lull in the battle, something the defenders were thankful for. The gathered Death Eaters formed a line with the snatchers behind them. From her position, she could see all the prone bodies in the courtyard between the two groups. So many dead already after a mere five minutes of battle.

Bellatrix turned her head and watched as her younger self stood next to her, face grim as she clutched to her a distraught Hermione, keeping her close and keeping her safe. On her other side stood Moody, waiting for the inevitable.

The inevitable being Voldemort, apparating in front of his group. The noseless fiend, clad in his usual green robe and having his pet snake draped over his shoulders, stood there smiling that false smile of his. An odd smile, really, seeing it didn't look or feel in any way natural or human. Of course, he'd be enough of an egotist to put the fight to a grinding halt told hold a vainglorious speech.

"Well, well, well," spoke Voldemort as he slowly paced back and forth. "Here we are. I don't suppose you'd care to surrender?"

Moody clacked his cane to the ground. "I believe I speak for all of us," he gruffed. "When I say, absolutely not, you lavvy-headed wankstain."

Voldemort's face contorted in an angry glare, his jaw setting strongly, before his inhuman mouth broadened into something resembling a grin. "All of you? Even my lost flock?" he said, turning towards the ex-Death Eaters.

"Does he speak for you, Lucius? Or you, Antonin? Augustus? Penelope? Any of you?" Voldemort narrowed his snake-like eyes. "So disappointing. So... embarrassing to see you turn against the truth of purity and power. And for what? A wizarding world that grows weaker by the year?"

Bellatrix could see the turmoil in their eyes. Even now they were conflicted.

"I'm especially disappointed in you, Bellatrix," said Voldemort. Instantly, her younger self cringed and seemed to shrink three sizes. Her eyes downcast, her lower lip trembling. "You, who once called herself my most loyal servant. You, who waited loyally for me in Azkaban. You, whom I once considered my most trusted. You, whom I personally took under my wing as my apprentice. You gave up everything and turned against your lord... for a mudblood... A _mudblood_! Well... I hope it was worth it."

He was trying to get under her younger self's skin, trying to get her to switch sides again. Bellatrix jabbed her elbow into her side, perhaps a little harder than was necessary. Her startled younger self found her conviction again, especially when Hermione was by her side, smiling at her and squeezing her hand slightly.

Her younger self looked up. "It is," she spoke softly.

Instantly, Voldemort's head snapped towards her, glaring mercilessly at her. This time, her younger self did not cower.

"IT IS!" she shouted back. And for once, Bellatrix was proud of her younger self.

"Well, I suppose that settles that them," said Voldemort. "Your punishment, and a dire one it is, will be that none of you will able to partake of the beautiful, powerful and pure wizarding world that I will rebuild from the ashes of the old one! You will all die without knowing true glory."

Bellatrix had had enough. "BULLSHIT!" she shouted, her voice muffled by the mask. She took a few steps forward, keeping her wand to her side. "It was never about creating a better world for wizard-kind! It was always about you and your precious immortality! Everything else was just a means to an end to you! Tools to be exploited!"

"And who is this?" Voldemort spoke, his curiosity piqued. Already, Bellatrix could feel his casual attempts to enter her mind. For now, his attempts were easy enough to be blocked. "Ah, yes, the masked warrior-wizard who's been giving my forces a black eye for so long. You have been... vexingly successful."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Bellatrix nodded.

"Oh, it is," said Voldemort. "You've weeded out the weakest of my followers quite effectively. Had we met before today, I would have extended an invitation for you to join me."

Bellatrix chuckled. "I would have rejected your invitation anyway."

"I can be quite persuasive, I assure you," Voldemort said, obviously referring to the imperius curse. "Curious. I do get the feeling that we have met before. That I should know you. Are you, perhaps, a veteran of the first war?"

The Dark Lord was _really_ making an effort to invade her mind now. It was getting hard to think as blocking Voldemort's strong effort to breach her mind resembled a game of high-speed wack-a-mole with a head-less mallet. For now, she managed to keep him out, but Voldemort was threatening to overwhelm her. Of course, it wouldn't really matter at this point, but pride wouldn't let her give up her identity as easily.

"No matter," said Voldemort, instantly giving up his attempt. "I shall lift the mask from your lifeless corpse and find out the truth soon enough. I..."

Suddenly, Voldemort froze. A moment later, he let out a cry of rage as he clutched his chest. Bellatrix knew what had happened: both horcruxes in McGonagall's office had just been destroyed as was planned. The Dark Lord raised his wand again, a signal for his forces to press the attack.

Instantly, the defensive positions were bombarded with magic, the courtyard filled with screams of anguish when the battle continued in earnest. Though the position was more easy to be held, the ferocity of the attack, together with Voldemort being active in the field, meant more death and more destruction.

One of the aurors dropped at Bellatrix's feet, magical burns charring almost his entire body. The Dark Lord wasn't kidding anymore. All around her defenders and attackers clashed. It was pure chaos. One thing _was_ certain, however: the Dark Lord was singling her out.

Voldemort strode slowly towards her. His first attack easily blasted through her defenses and knocked her to ground. Bellatrix quickly jumped to her feet, wand aimed and shouted "Spectris Malleus!". A massive hammer-shaped bolt of energy shot from her wand, actually breaching Voldemort's defenses and staggering him for a moment. Unfortunately, it only succeeded in making him angrier.

She felt a spectral force grab hold of her, hoist her twenty feet into the air and slam her back down into the ground with bone-crushing force. Bellatrix let out a strained grunt, only to be thrown into the air again, twisting and turning like a rag-doll in the wind while several bolts slammed into her. Again, she crashed into the ground, her body aching from burns and pain. She tasted blood in her mouth, coughing up more into her mask's beak as she weakly tried to draw breath.

It was looking ever more likely that she was going to die here today. And if that were the case, she would have peace with that. Oh, she didn't want to die, but if she had to for the twenty wonderful years she had spent with Hermione to happen, it would be worth it.

There was method to her madness, though: while he was targeting her, Voldemort managed to get separated from the snake. She hoped that she could keep the Dark Lord distracted enough for someone else to make use of this opening.

Bellatrix managed to roll to her side while Voldemort kept slowly striding towards her. She lamely raised her wand, but she barely had any energy left. Still, if she were to go out, she would not do so without a fight.

A bolt shot over her, slamming into the ground in front of Voldemort, showering him with loose dirt and mud. The Dark Lord yelled in annoyance as two more bolts followed, again not targeting him directly, but aimed to keep him distracted with flying dirt.

Her younger self, the source of her rescue, stood next to her. "Get up, you old bag!" she demanded. "Or are you just going to roll over and die?!"

Her younger self held out her hand, which Bellatrix took. She was hoisted to her feet and, now emboldened and re-energized, she raised her wand in unison with her younger self to resume the fight with the Dark Lord.

Alone, she wouldn't stand a chance. But together? They were a match for Voldemort. Her younger self's ferocity was impressive: she bombarded the Dark Lord with spell after spell after spell, straining his defenses to the burning point, while she herself made use of the openings and started landing hits on his body. The Dark Lord let out a howl when a particularly sneaky flame bolt managed to hit him in the stomach.

Her younger self threw her head back and let out a mocking cackle, further enraging the Dark Lord. Bellatrix was grinning behind her mask: they actually had the Dark Lord on the defensive between the two of them. Another one of her spectral hammers slammed into his face, causing blood to spurt from his non-existent nose. For the first time, Bellatrix considered she might actually survive this.

Then. It happened.

Neville Longbottom literally cut the head off the serpent with the Sword of Gryffindor. The last of his horcruxes had been destroyed.

Upon which Lord Voldemort, as her son could phrase so colourfully, 'completely lost his shit'. A cry of denial came from the depths of his lungs before he started flinging killing curses about like a madman, targeting anyone who was moving, be they friend of foe.

Bellatrix and her younger self shared a look and the both of them quickly dove to the ground to minimize their chances of being hit. Young Neville Longbottom was not as fortunate: a green bolt hit him in the chest and he sank to the ground in a lifeless heap. More bodies were dropping soon after as both Death Eaters and defenders were retreating now, sometimes behind the very same defensive barriers.

It was madness.

Following this man had been madness.

Fortunately, this was the moment Harry Potter stepped forward. From here it was easy sailing, at it were. History had recorded that Harry Potter would defeat the Dark Lord and history would be proved right. Bellatrix felt she could relax: from here on, she was merely a spectator. They all were. It was as good as over.

Both of them did their little speeches, both of them postured, both of them did their dance. In the end, the Dark Lord was goaded into casting the killing curse on Harry, which swiftly rebounded back onto him as he was not the Elder Wand's true master.

Bellatrix snorted: he always had overdone it with the killing curses.

For the first time, she felt her whole body aching now that she had time and clarity on her side. Now that Voldemort had fallen, the battle ended. Some of the Death Eaters fled, others stayed. Fact remained, most of the fighting had stopped. It was over. It was finally over.

Even now, Voldemort stubbornly refused to submit to his fate, applying his considerable willpower to try to prevent his body from shutting down. Judging by the way the colour was draining from his body, he was fighting a losing battle.

Bellatrix had achieved her goal, standing over her dying old master. Though she was masked, she had the feeling that he could just imagine the self-satisfied smirk on her face behind it as he looked up at her in terror.

"Who... who are you?!" he demanded, even then still reaching out to try to invade her mind. He was easily rebuffed as his attempts had increasingly less energy behind them. "I... I demand to see your face! I..."

Bellatrix simply shook her head. "You'll never know," she said, taking in one last look at his indignant expression before turning away from the dying man, just before he drew his last breath.

And there was one last thing she simply couldn't resist.

Bellatrix let out a final, mocking cackle.

* * *

Bellatrix limped past the many cots lied out in the Great Hall, which was now filled with the moans of the wounded and the sobs of the survivors. Still wearing her mask and robe, she took in the sight around her.

For a year, Bellatrix had worked her utmost to make the Order stronger and the Death Eaters weaker. She'd ensured Alastor Moody's survival, she'd either ended some of Voldemort's strongest followers or helped them to defect. She'd single-handedly changed the course of the war. Despite all that, including having the foreknowledge of exactly when Voldemort's forces would attack, the Order had only barely managed to scrape out a victory by the skin of their teeth.

The list of casualties was staggering. She walked past the gathered bodies of the defenders. John Dawlish, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Filius Flitwick, Cho Chang, Aberforth Dumbledore, Elphias Doge, Neville Longbottom, both Patil twins just to name a few. Severus Snape had been placed among the honoured dead after his role in the war as a spy had come to light. And then there were the scores of young aurors and volunteers whose names would be inscribed on a monument set in the courtyard of Hogwarts in a few months. An entire generation of aurors, effectively wiped out. Dozens more injured, but when counting the bodies lied out of the cots, the dead outnumbered the wounded. With healers running around, the casualty list was still growing by the hour.

Bellatrix had known this would happen. She knew that victory would come at a high price. But they'd won. Secretly, Bellatrix had hoped that perhaps she could change a few things here and there, to help more defenders survive the day: but in the end, nothing had changed and the events of the battle had taken place exactly like history had described it. The mission she had set out for a year ago had been a success, regardless.

Though the most dangerous wizard who ever lived now lay dead permanently, the mood was not one of celebration. Instead, the survivors sought solace with each other while they mourned their dead.

She spotted Pansy Parkinson, whom had been assigned to stay behind the lines to help the healers. Her expression was one one blank indifference, staring off into the distance but not focused on anything. Sullen, callous and vacant: she had seen that look on fellow Death Eaters many times before. Reactions to friends or even enemies dying... the sheer reality sinking in that what had happened was very real and never how it was sold to them in the propaganda. Today was probably the first time that the girl has seen death: true, ugly and soul-shattering death. Ron Weasley sat down besides her and instantly the girl flowed in his arms, being held tightly while still staring off into the distance, her hands trembling.

The poor girl was going to really need Ron in the next few months. They'd be married next February.

Cissy and Draco were sat together, near the entrance where they could see the setting sun. Keeping them company was Luna Lovegood, of all people. Bellatrix smiled: this would be the start of the most unlikeliest of romances and the nieces who would be brought into the world because of it would be the most lovable of goofballs.

New life would be born out of this tragedy, at least.

She spotted Hermione in the distance. A sobbing Hermione was being held tightly by Duncan, being at the same time saddened by the loss of so many friends, but at the same time happy that the crazy old Scot had made it through alive. Part of her wanted to rush over to her, but her younger self was already near and it would be _her_ job to comfort the young witch right now.

At the table sat Fred and George Weasley, their faces grim. They would never be the same, if Hermione was to be believed.

Near the back of the room, the ex-Death Eaters were grouped together, quietly speaking. So far, there were no reprisals against them. In fact, many of the defenders had come to see their contribution as the reason why many of them were still alive. All defectors had survived, in fact, a testament to their skills as battle-hardened warrior-wizards. They would be fine. They'd have to pay a price of trial, healing and house-arrest for a few years, but they would all start new and productive lives.

Near the gathering place for the bodies of many, many fallen aurors stood Nymphadora Tonks. No longer the tough girl, her niece was crying while Lupin held her, tears in his eyes. Tonks would suffer from survivor's guilt for a long time. Moody was quiet and withdrawn: many of the dead were either people he had known all his life or had commanded as head of the auror office. Bellatrix would know the old man for years to come, but never would she again see him this shaken. He would retire from the auror office for a few months to live in the countryside, until hanging around cows and sheep would become too dull. He'd resume his place as Head of the Auror office before the year was out.

The moment she passed the gathered healers, she was rushed by Andie. Her sister moved in front of her and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Bella," she whispered softly, for she was still wearing her mask. "You are injured."

Bellatrix shook her head. "I'll be fine. There are others who are far worse off than me. Focus on them."

"Don't be stubborn. Sit down," said Andie. "You _do_ know your wrist is broken, right?"

"Is it?" asked a puzzled Bellatrix as she looked down. She had instinctively held her arm close, her left hand pressing against her torso at an odd angle. "I didn't feel a thing."

"You will once the adrenaline wears off," Andie half-smiled as she guided her to a cot and sat her down on it. "Here, hold out your hand."

Bellatrix did as she was told with Andie gently taking hold of her forearm. A wand was flicked over her wrist. Immediately, Bellatrix let out a shrill cry when the bones in her wrist set themselves, shifting her hand in the proper position with a sickening snap before relief overcame her.

"Oh, Merlin," Andie said while examining her further. "You're covered in magical burns."

"I'll live," Bellatrix replied softly. Andie would have none of it and put a potion to her lips, after struggling with her mask for a bit. Bellatrix turned her head away to maintain her secret and held the bottle. The liquid was thick and viscous and tasted about as good as one would expect a medical potion to taste. Though the potion was almost returned to sender, the pain relief it brought was heavenly.

"That does feel much better," muttered Bellatrix.

"You were always too stubborn for your own good, Bella," Andie smiled. "You faced off with the Dark Lord and lived. Not many people can say that."

"I had something to fight for," said Bellatrix. "Love. Family."

"I'm glad we've been able to reconnect," said Andie. "I've missed you."

"Just... forgive the younger me," Bellatrix half-smiled. "She has a long road ahead. She's going to say some things to you that she'll... _I_ regret."

Andie placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're already forgiven."

Another hand was placed on her shoulder. "I can say much the same," replied Cissy, before smiling and giving Andie a brief embrace. Apparently, she was no longer concerned with keeping the fact that she and her sister had not broken ties at all a closely guarded secret. It would take somewhat longer for the Black sisters to reforge their old bond, however, as her younger self would not be so easily swayed just yet.

"Cissy," said Andie. "Shouldn't you be with Draco?"

Cissy shook her head. "Not at the moment," spoke her sister. "My family is safe now and I am savvy enough to realize that a boy doesn't want his mother orbiting him when he's receiving attention from a pretty girl. How are you holding up, Andie?"

Andie bit her lip as she regarded the state of the people around her. "It's more of a morgue than a hospital. Is it wrong of me to be relieved that Dora, Remus, you, Draco and Bella have all survived while standing among so many dead?"

"No," Bellatrix broke in. "No, it is not. Family is always most important."

"I hope so," sighed Andie, looking to be not at all convinced by any of that.

There was some commotion starting on the other side of the Great Hall and squared her jaw beneath her mask. She knew exactly what was happening and put a hand on Andie and Cissy's shoulders. Both her sisters gave her a warm smile before she got up and hurried to the source of the commotion.

Said source being her younger self, now faced off with Moody and a small team of aurors, all having wands out. The younger self was furious, animatedly pacing back and forth staring daggers at them. "I WARNED YOU WHAT YOU HAPPEN IF YOU BETRAY ME, OLD FOOL!" she shrieked while Hermione stood next to her, trying to calm her down.

"Were you expecting us to simply let you go?!" Moody challenged. "That wasn't part of our agreement, Black! You and the other Death Eaters have committed crimes and you must answer for them."

"Bella!" Hermione tried. "Just listen for a moment. I..."

"NO!" her younger self screamed in desperation while Bellatrix swiftly approached the site of the commotion. "I'M NOT GOING BACK! I'M NEVER GOING BACK TO AZKABAN! Is this my reward for risking my life for you lot? To be put back in that hellhole?!"

The younger Bellatrix, in an act of pure unadulterated desperation, grabbed a yelping Hermione and held on to her, her wand pointed at both their heads, while making the complicated gestures of a bombarda-spell. "STAY BACK!" she yelled. "I'll KILL US BOTH! Let us go or I swear I'll kill us both!"

"ENOUGH! Both of you!" came an angry cry from Minerva McGonagall as she came striding down towards them. "Miss Black," she said before stopping a few meters in front of her. Bellatrix could see her younger self tensing up, grabbing a tighter hold on Hermione and her wand. "Let miss Granger go. We're not sending you to Azkaban."

"LIAR!" Bellatrix shouted. "I won't go back! I'll never go back!"

By now, Moody was starting to look increasingly grim. McGonagall would have none of it, however. "All of you," she demanded of the aurors. "Put your wands away. Now."

Perhaps it was simply the woman's commanding presence, or perhaps they had seen too much death today to start another fight. Regardless of the reason, the aurors did so.

"Look around you, miss Black," said McGonagall. "Hasn't there been enough misery and death without us adding more to it? Miss Black... Bellatrix... you yourself cannot deny that you are not well. You need help to heal. Allow us to give you that help. You have fought for the future by our side. Not let us repay you by giving you the help you need."

Her younger self threw her head back and let out a mocking cackle. "You stupid old bat!" she shouted back. "I am Bellatrix Black! I don't need help! I don't need anyone! I can do it on my own!"

Now came the time for Bellatrix act. With one swift motion, Bellatrix pushed through the gathering of onlookers and rushed to McGonagall's side "NO YOU CAN'T!" Bellatrix shouted through her mask, causing her younger self to start. "YOU'RE A BROKEN WRECK OF A WOMAN! YOU CAN'T DO IT ON YOUR OWN!" she shouted before her voice softened. "Trust me, I know."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" her younger self shouted back at her.

"You're holding a wand to the love of your life's head and you're telling me that you don't need help?" Bellatrix took a few steps towards her. "Look at yourself. Think about what you're doing!"

Her younger self bowed her head slightly, lower lip trembling as her eyes went watery. Her wand shook in her hand.

"Trust me, Bella, I want you to be happy more than anyone else in this room," said Bellatrix. She remembered this very moment. She remembered how torn she had been. She remembered just how close she had come to blowing up both herself and Hermione.

"Bella?" sounded a third voice. Andromeda. Her sister cautiously approached while Bellatrix' grip on her wand tightened once again. Everybody fell silent as tension grew. "Remember when we were children and we played around the house a little too wildly? I had broken one of maman's precious vases and I was so scared. I was so scared that I was ready to run away, even had a little knapsack packed and everything. It was you who told me that I should stay and face my fears. That it wouldn't be as bad as I thought it would be. And it wasn't. Maman wasn't even angry."

Bellatrix watched her younger self snort. "This is a little different from a broken vase, Andie," her younger self snapped back.

"Bella," said Andie. "We can be a family again. You can be with Hermione and be happy. But none of that will happen if you don't put down that wand."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT'S LIKE!" Bellatrix wailed.

Hermione, for her part, gently turned around, laying both her hands on her younger self's cheeks. "Bella," she spoke softly. "Do you trust me?"

Her younger self looked intently at Hermione and gave her an almost imperceptible nod. The two witches pressed their foreheads together. "It'll be fine. I'll be there for you. I'll help you get through it. I won't allow them to hurt you."

"But..."

"Go with them," said Hermione. "Trust _me_. Trust McGonagall. I will make sure nothing happens to you. You won't be put into Azkaban for as long as I live."

The moment of truth came when Hermione gently reached for the wand. Her younger self's hand curled tightly around it at first until Hermione's fingers curled around it too. Then, her younger self slowly, hesitantly, loosened her grip and allowed Hermione to take the wand from her.

Hermione embraced her then, while her younger self started sobbing in her arms. "I love you..." she whispered.

"I love you too," Hermione whispered back.

Bellatrix closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. None of them would ever know how hard it was to let go of the anger. None of them would ever know just how scared she had been. In the moment she had just witnessed, her younger self had made a decision. Tentative, yes, but a decision nonetheless. It was a decision to break free of the shackles of her past and look to the future. A future she saw in the soulful eye of Hermione Granger. Pleading, gentle eyes which told her things could be different for her.

By now, McGonagall and two aurors flanked her. McGonagall gently approached her younger self and reached out to take the wand from Hermione. Her younger self then allowed McGonagall to take her by the hand. "Come, miss Black," she spoke softly. "We have a lot to discuss. Mrs Tonks, would you join us, please?"

A young auror carrying a set of manacles came running up, until Moody stopping him by holding his cane to his chest. "That... won't be necessary, lad. For none of our ex-Death Eater friends. McGonagall is right. We've already lost too much..."

Her younger self's expression was one of defeat and terror while McGonagall led her deeper into the castle to talk, but there was a twinkle of hope in her eyes. She did not break eye-contact with Hermione until she left the Great Hall.

Bellatrix stood next to Hermione while the crowd dispersed. The young witch's expression was one of sadness and worry: it would indeed be some time before she would see her love again.

"She's going to have a very difficult year ahead of her. As will you. She's going to need you more than ever," said Bellatrix, thinking back upon her 'year of hell'. A year of intense therapy, of being confronted with herself and her own deeds. Months and months of emotional turmoil, guilt and uncertainty. " _I_... needed you more than ever."

"I'll be there for her," said Hermione, smiling warmly with tears in her eyes. "For you. It'll be worth it."

Duncan came stepping up to her, quickly taking Hermione into an embrace. "Are you alright, bairn?" asked the Scot while the blind old dog Ainsley was on his hinds legs, putting his front paws on Hermione's trousers.

Bellatrix regarded the old Scot for a moment. In truth, she'd been debating with herself if she should actually say something. It was a big risk, but from all the things which had played out the way it was supposed to, Bellatrix was almost certain that time was immutable and she couldn't really change anything.

"Hermione," said Bellatrix, taking a deep breath. "Duncan is your real grandfather."

Hermione snapped her head to her with a speed that was almost frightening. Then, she looked back to the old man. "What?" she gasped in disbelief.

"In my time-line," said Bellatrix. "You never learned this until after Duncan's death due to a dragon pox infection. You've always regretted not being able to know him as family."

"Dragon pox?" said Duncan, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Nonsense. I've had all my shots."

Bellatrix sighed. "In autumn next year, you'll develop a cough but being the stubborn old fool that you are, you never bothered with visiting a healer until the later state of infection when there was nothing left to do about it. Do yourself a favor and just visit your local healer. He lives in the same street as you do, for Circe's sake!"

"But..." Hermione looked back to Duncan, who was looking rather contemplative.

"Lydia and I had a passionate affair, you could say," said Duncan. "She always was a fiery lady. Could drink even me under the table. But we stopped after she found out she was pregnant. Her husband was none the wiser, but I always suspected there was a chance that your mother was my daughter. It was confirmed when you were born a magical child. I knew you had to be my granddaughter."

"That's why you always stopped by to chat when I was at my nan's?" Hermione asked. "You taught me my first spell. Took me wand shopping."

Duncan sighed. "I never had a family. I don't know... when I was with you and Lydia, I just felt like I could experience that joy... just for a bit."

Bellatrix chuckled. "You have one now. Consisting of Hermione and two great-grandchildren who I'm sure will love you very much and will need you to help them get in touch with their Scottish heritage. That is, if you can stand to be around a Sassenach pure-blood cunt."

Duncan laughed for a moment. "I'm sure I'll be able to tolerate you. Eventually."

And that is where Bellatrix left Hermione. After stealing one more look, she knew her work here was done. She drew her wand and instantly transformed herself into a billow of arid smoke. The billow shot out of the Great Hall with incredible speed, slaloming around pillars and shooting up into the sky once reaching the courtyard.

Bellatrix reconstituted into her human form on a hill outside Hogsmeade on the other side of the Great Lake. She turned around one more time to regard the ruined school and smiled briefly.

It was over. She had achieved all her goals and more. The future was secured.

With a crack, she apparated away. 'Batman' would never be seen in the wizarding world again and became the source of legends.


	22. Self-prevented

The time-line was secured. Her future was secured. But now Bellatrix was in a bit of a bind.

With the time-circuit being burned out and this time period lacking the ability to repair it, Bellatrix was left stranded in the past. Fortunately, her sweet Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she hadn't come up with a contingency plan.

Bellatrix apparated back to the Cairngorms Sanctuary, to be stood in front of the ruined mansion. The door was still open as her younger self hadn't bothered to close it. Evening was starting to fall and Bellatrix closed the front doors. No reason letting the wildlife run amuck in her future home, after all.

Still, it wasn't the mansion she was after. Instead, she apparated about a mile further away to a hilly area near what would become the dragon holding facility. In the hillside was built a magical duck-blind. The duck-blind offered a vantage point from which all parts of this particular holding facility could be observed with magical binoculars. This particular duck-blind hadn't been used since the twenties and would never be used again. It was, in fact, not located on any of the sanctuary's map, was magically unplottable and had a door hidden by the strongest of illusionary magics.

In fact, the only reason Bellatrix knew about it was because of the first month she had spent at the ruined mansion and happened to come across some old maps from the sanctuary's early days. Maps she had since destroyed. Nobody knew about this spot except her. Not even Hermione knew this duck-blind existed.

And that was exactly the point.

Bellatrix had already set up the duck-blind for use, which consisted mostly of a few lockers, a mattress and a way to hermetically seal the duck-blind from the inside. She locked the door behind her and opened a locker where she had stashed a particularly powerful potion. In a rather dainty looking flask with a golden stopper, was a pink-colored liquid. Bellatrix gingerly set the potion down. After that, she fished the enchanted golden watch from her pocket one more time and hung it above the mattress next to the wall.

After a few moments to center herself, Bellatrix took the potion. The sweet liquid burned going down and Bellatrix quickly put down the bottle and lay down on the mattress. Already, it was starting to have an effect on her. She lay down on the mattress, settling down and getting comfortable. Magic surged from her body and around her started to form a magical shell of transparent magical glass which would be utterly unbreakable. She closed her eyes just as the chrysalis around her was fully formed.

And almost immediately, it faded away. Bellatrix drew in a breath and found the air in the room quite stale. Cobwebs were all over the place and she rubbed her forehead before sitting up. Her body was a bit stiff, but otherwise, she was quite fine.

The golden watch, now covered with dust and cobwebs, was still ticking on effortlessly even after almost twenty-one years. She checked the time and saw that it was about fifteen minutes before the moment that she had left to travel back into the past. It was well within the margin of error, but she just knew that her wife would be annoyed that the potion she had created wouldn't have brought her back to the _exact_ moment she had left.

Bellatrix fished the photograph from her pocket to take a look at her family. She knew everything was alright, but it didn't hurt to see it for herself one more time. For almost a year, that picture had been her anchor, a reminder of what she'd been fighting for. And, to her delight, the family picture was as it had always been: herself, Hermione, Rigel, little Lydia and Duncan, acting the role as the gruff old grandfather with a gentle heart. Taken on Christmas day in 2019. Five smiling faces looking back at her.

Thank Merlin that time was immutable and everything was just like it was supposed to be. For years she'd been worried that might actually change the future, erase her family or even worse. But she laughed at just how foolish that thought had been. Everything played out exactly as it was meant to.

She'd have quite a story to tell Antonin. While spending a whole year in the past, she actually hadn't managed to change anything, either wilfully or accidentally. It was a sheer impossibility. Perhaps it was hubris to think that she even could.

She removed her cloak and hung it, and the mask, into the metal locker. Never to be used again. Instead, she found a set of clothes she had purchased back in 1998 and changed into it. Though the black dress was shockingly out of date, for now it would do.

After struggling with the door, she managed to get it open and stared into the evening sky of the dragon habitat, now surrounded with active magical fields to keep the dragons from flying off into the wild. In fact, she spotted an old friend: the old albino dragon, liberated from Gringotts, was now happily flying in the distance, enjoying his quiet retirement.

Bellatrix took out her wand and apparated right in front of her home. Seeing she was still a little early, she found a quiet hiding spot and waited, taking a moment to reflect.

The mansion, now rebuilt, loomed in front of her. Cozy lights emanated from the window, the mansion giving a welcoming atmosphere. Around the mansion, the staff buildings had all been rebuilt and manned. Though most people had gone home for the night, Bellatrix and Hermione employed thirty people to keep the sanctuary up and running. The night crew were located mostly at the ranger stations spread all over the sanctuary.

Memories came flooding back. Her healing process had taken years: after being taken into custody after the Battle of Hogwarts, she'd been taken to a muggle facility in the mountains of Switzerland which had a specialized wing to deal with mentally disturbed wizards and witches. She'd been in that mental facility for over a year. It had been hell to be locked up again, even though the facility itself wasn't even remotely comparable to the horrors of Azkaban. Arrogance kept her thinking absolutely nothing had been wrong with her, making the recovery process more lengthy. It was Hermione and her many visits which kept her going. Love bloomed and blossomed. In the end, Hermione had made her _want_ to heal.

Bellatrix sighed: Hermione had made so many sacrifices to help her. It meant her career at the Ministry had never taken off, to a point where she had simply decided to quit her Ministry work to become a full-time carer and minder for her.

Eventually, Bellatrix had been released to a period of strictly supervised house arrest. They lived, ironically, in the Muggle world. The house of Hermione's nan at Banchory became their permanent home for the next four years. In fact, they still had it and often used it as a vacation house or a weekend retreat whenever they wanted to be away from everything for a bit.

Of course, there'd been up and downs, one particular down prompting her to set the house on fire which had been, thankfully, put out before it could do any real damage. Merlin, Hermione had given her such a bollocking for that. Still, almost burning herself and Hermione to death in a housefire caused by a temper tantrum over nothing had been the final wake-up call she had desperately needed. It had only gone uphill since that moment. When Bellatrix was doing better, there followed a reconciliation with her sisters, she and Hermione did quite a lot of travelling after the house-arrest period ended. Eventually, they finally decided on buying the Cairngorms Sanctuary.

She'd put a lot of personal effort in restoring the sanctuary and their mansion. With two hands and a liberal amount of magic, of course. Doing something positive: building instead up of tearing down. It had felt so good at the time. Hermione often said that it had been an apt metaphor for rebuilding her shattered life. It was in this very mansion where she and Hermione were married in a beautiful ceremony, attended by close friends and family. Honestly the happiest moment of her life until that point.

Both her children had been born here.

The doors to the mansion opened and Bellatrix watched as she saw herself, clad in black and mask in hand, along with Hermione. Her wife, now forty years of age, brown hair hanging long and loose over her back, stood in almost exactly the same spot she had been when Bellatrix had activated the time-circuit. She watched herself kiss Hermione after taking her in a fierce embrace.

The time-circuit activated and she was gone in a flash, leaving Hermione to stare at the spot she had been standing with a forlorn look on her face. Hermione then glanced around the mansion, hoping for her to return before sighing and heading back inside, closing the mansion door behind her.

Bellatrix could kick herself in that moment: she had been so conditioned to lurk and observe from the shadows that had been rooted on the spot almost against her will. Well… time to correct that swiftly.

Elated to be back, Bellatrix stepped to the front door and placed her hand on it. The magic in the door recognized her as an inhabitant and opened before her, giving way to the large hall which doubled as a living space. Warm, cozy and daintily decorated. Her favorite lazy reading chair next to the roaring fire beckoned her. As with every room in the house, piling bookcases lined the walls. An old style grammophone had been set up, mostly as a decoration. Just above the fireplace, in a place of honor in a glass display cabinet, was the first edition of Henry David Thoreau's Walden. The very copy they had found here at the sanctuary years ago.

The greatest treasure stood in the middle of the room, however.

Hermione.

"Bella," Hermione whispered. To her, she had only been gone for such a short while, but for Bellatrix it might have well been an eternity. Instantly, Bellatrix was upon her, crossing the distance and seizing her in a tight embrace. Tears ran over her cheeks as she started sobbing.

"It's done," she whispered through her tears.

Hermione closed her eyes and let her wife hug her. The two witches shared a loving kiss. Bellatrix revelled in her warmth, her touch, her embrace. Hermione. Light of her life. Her saviour. Her everything.

"I can't imagine what it's been like," said Hermione.

"I'm just glad it's over," said Bellatrix. "We'll visit McGonagall tomorrow. Tell her what happened."

"I think she already knows," said Hermione. "I think more people already know. Antonin probably calculated the exact moment of your departure and return. Knowing him, he's already gathered the peanut gallery and has talked Andromeda into throwing you a welcome home party. I… should probably tell them to wait a couple of days."

"Ah, I've got plenty of stories to tell both of them, but first..." she aimed a wistful look up the stairs to the west wing.

Hermione smiled in understanding. "Spend a bit of time with the kids first."

Most of the upper floor of the west wing was devoted to the kids. A large communal room orbited by two smaller private spaces where either of them could retreat to. The communal room was filled with toy chests, book-cases, a lounge area with some muggle tech stuff her son liked so much along with his film collection and a whole row of stuffed animals in a cupboard which her daughter collected. Tears came to her eyes again when she saw her son sitting behind the desk playing on his computer, while her daughter lay on the floor on her stomach coloring on a sheet of paper with crayons.

"Hi mum," Lydia greeted, her voice sounding like the softest of music while looking up from her artwork. "Hey, didn't you say goodbye to us a moment ago? You were going on a trip."

"It was cancelled," Bellatrix lied. "I'll be staying here."

Lydia accepted that answer, once again engrossing herself with drawing. Bellatrix stepped into the room and stood behind her son, kneeling down somewhat next to his chair to look over his shoulder "Hi, mum," Rigel replied, his eyes focused on his game.

They had no idea what had just transpired. She and Hermione had decided they would tell them when they'd be old enough, but for now ignorance was bliss.

A happy Bellatrix snaked her arms around his son's waist and hugged him tightly, despite there being a bit of chair in the way.

"Mum, you're being weird," her son laughed as he was being hugged. On the screen of his muggle machine, her son's character was running around a muggle police station shooting at the undead in a game he had begged her to buy him for his birthday. It gratified her to see that he was still enjoying it, but they'd had to be careful: for now, violent muggle games were a bit of a blind-spot for Hermione but she doubted that would last forever.

"Just be careful, hm?" Bellatrix chuckled. "Make sure your mother doesn't see you playing or we'll both be up for the high jump."

"What are you talking about?" Rigel spoke innocently and pressed a pre-programmed button on his gaming keyboard. The screen changed to a website and some cheerful music. "I'm just surfing wikipedia while listening to music. Nothing bad about that, huh?"

"Hah," Bellatrix laughed and ruffled his hair. "Good lad. You're a fine Slytherin in the making."

Almost reluctantly, she left her first-born. Next was to lavish some attention on her daughter. She moved to sit next to little Lydia, running a hand through her curly brown hair. "So what's that, hm?" she asked.

"That's a dragon," said Lydia. "It's now done. What should I draw next?"

"Your bed," said Bellatrix, winking. "It's past eight, little witchling."

"Awwwwww," Lydia pouted. "But mum!"

"Hush," Bellatrix smirked. "Don't 'but mum' me. I'm not Hermione. Besides, if you don't go to bed now, you'll be a grumpy girl again tomorrow. I promise you, we'll be going out for a day of fun tomorrow. As a family. Wherever you and Rigel want to go."

Lydia gasped. "Sea Life in London!" she raved. Ah, yes, Bellatrix had almost forgotten that Lydia had developed a taste for aquariums and it was something Rigel liked too. Add in plenty of good eateries in London and there was a recipe for a nice family outing.

"But only if you go to bed now," said Bellatrix. The little girl was eager to please her mum and rushed into the bathroom. Bellatrix waited in the door frame for Lydia to change into her pyjamas and brush her teeth. She then followed her into her bedroom, which was a stunning pink room... when it had first been decorated, Bellatrix had no idea that so many different shades of pink actually existed, but there it was.

Lydia climbed into bed and allowed her mother to tuck her in a little. Bellatrix sat next to her, simply smiling.

"Mum?" Lydia asked, giving her a questioning look.

"Nothing," Bellatrix shook her head. Instead she shifted.

"I'm not tired," said Lydia, letting out a fierce yawn.

"Of course, you aren't," Bellatrix chuckled and started to sing quietly.

" _Sleep, sleep little witchling._

_Let magic warm your night._

_Don't cry, little witchling._

_Let magic shield your plight._

_Smile, smile, little witchling._

_Let magic be your light._

_Be proud, little witchling._

_Let magic give you might."_

Lydia was already asleep, her little chest falling and rising. Bellatrix bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead. Bellatrix silently left the room, closing the door behind her. "Rigel," she called over to her son. "Headphones please."

"Ah, Lydia bed time. Got it," said Rigel as he grabbed his headphones.

"Two more hours, lad," said Bellatrix, holding up two fingers. Her son nodded in understanding and continued his game. Bellatrix, now feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, slipped out of the room and, for the first time, felt just how soul-crushingly tired her was. If she kept on her feet for much longer, she'd simply collapse. It was a struggle to merely get to her bedroom.

The master bedroom in the east wing had a lovely full carpet and a large soft canopy bed she and Hermione shared. She shuffled towards the bed, her eyelids already falling shut.

Sod it. She was going to sleep in her clothes.

Bellatrix let herself fall forward and let the softness of her bed embrace her. Hermione was quickly upon her, lying down on the bed next to her and cuddling up with her. "Hm," said Hermione, gently stroking her dark curly hair. "You made the transition from time-travelling battle-witch to house-mum rather quickly."

"Hmmmmm... " Bellatrix let out a tired groan. "Too tired now... But after sleep... going to utterly ravish you... rip the clothes off your body... make you scream..."

Hermione let out a throaty giggle. "Something to look forward to, Bella," Hermione said, kissing her wife on the lips. Bellatrix smiled softly: Hermione was always up for some glorious morning sex.

"Rest now, Bella," Hermione whispered, and kept stroking her hair. "You don't have to fight anymore. Just enjoy the quiet life with me. With our kids. With our family."

"Love you so much..." Bellatrix murmured.

"I love you too."

Bellatrix smiled again and the last thought that shot through her mind right before blissful sleep well and truly claimed her was this: Though sweat, blood and tears, she had finally fully earned her happy ending.

And now she was finally well and truly home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends Self-prevention. Thank you very much for reading the story all the way through and I hope you've been enjoying it.
> 
> Next week, an all new long-form Bellamione story will start titled 'Breaking the Window'. I hope you'll enjoy that story too.


End file.
